


Ranger's Apprentice Cast Reacts!

by Dorano1



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Gen, Humor, Reading the Books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 140,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorano1/pseuds/Dorano1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and friends read and react to the Ranger's Apprentice series (but not book 12). Takes place shortly after Lost Stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ruins of Gorlan - Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Cassandra reads the prologue of Ruins of Gorlan. Tension ensues.

The summons from King Duncan had certainly been unusual, but then again, these were unusual circumstances.

After ensuring Tug would be properly looked after by the castle stablehands, Will and his new wife, Alyss Mainwaring Treaty, made their way up to the throne room to report to the King. Also present were the Princess Cassandra, Horace, Halt, and Crowley, but also - to the surprise of both Will and Alyss - Baron Arald, Lady Pauline, Sir Rodney, Gilan and...

"Jenny?" Alyss said, surprised but delighted to see her friend. Will grinned. "Jenny!" Jenny beamed back at them both, but before she could get a word in edgewise, Will was off. "What are you doing here? Did - _ow!"_ Will was cut off when Alyss elbowed him in the side. He rubbed his ribs and glared at her, even though there was no real menace in his eyes, or anything much besides hurt and a little pouting. "That hurt!"

"Then don't drown Jenny in questions." Alyss replied, smiling slightly. Gilan and Horace were trying and failing to hold back their laughter - _traitors,_ Will thought sourly - Cassandra, Baron Arald and Sir Rodney weren't even bothering to hide their amusement, Lady Pauline and King Duncan both looked mildly amused, and Halt was..well, Halt was Halt was Halt. The only indication of mirth was a raised eyebrow and a little mirth lurking in the corner of his eyes. Will huffed theatrically as he walked forward to join the lot of them. King Duncan started talking, and the laughter died down almost immediately.

"Best sit." He told them all. "We're going to be here a while." By way of explanation, he waved a hand to the stack of ten books on the table. The first volume, with the words _The Ruins of Gorlan_ written across it, made Will frown. _Gorlan._ Hadn't that been Morgarath's old fief?

"These volumes appeared this morning. Nobody could tell me where they came from, but the attached note suggested I invite you all hear to read them." King Duncan continued.

Baron Arald nodded. "Fair enough, your majesty." He said. There wasn't a terrible amount of reasoning behind it, but this being a time of peace (and more importantly, a mostly-humorous fanfic) there was no reason not too.

"May I read first?" Cassandra asked, looking at her father, who nodded his permission. Picking up the book, she opened the volume and began to read.

**Morgarath, Lord of the Mountains of Rain and Night, former Baron of Gorlan in the Kingdom of Araluen, looked out over his bleak, rainswept domain and, for perhaps the thousandth time, cursed.**

The blood in Will's veins ran cold at the mention of Morgarath. Glancing across the table at Horace, he saw the tightening of the jaw and the slight pallor that had come over his skin and knew his friend was having a similar reaction. Cassandra paused in her reading to give Horace's hand a reassuring squeeze, then continued as Alyss laid her own hand on Will's.

**This was all that was left to him now - a jumble of rugged granite cliffs, tumbled boulders, and icy mountains. Of sheer gorges and steep narrow passes. Of gravel and rock, with never a tree or a sign of green to break the monotony.**

"Bit dramatic, wasn't he?" Gilan commented, trying to lighten the mood, deliberately invoking the past tense to subtly remind everyone that Morgarath was, in fact, dead, thanks to Horace. The sally gave rise to laughter from all those present, save for of course Halt, who's mouth nonetheless curled slightly at the edges.

**Even though it had been fifteen years since he had been driven back into the forbidding realm that had become his prison, he could still remember the pleasant green glades and thickly forested hills of his former fief.**

"Not how I remember it." Will muttered, and Sir Rodney snorted. Cassandra raised her eyebrows and both men quickly fell silent, but when the princess continued reading, there was a slight grin on her face.

**The streams filled with fish and the fields rich with crops and game. Gorlan had been a beautiful, living place. The Mountains of Rain and Night were dead and desolate.**

"Well, if you weren't such a treacherous, backstabbing, greedy bastard, you'd still live there." Crowley pointed out, getting another round of laughter. It was always good fun to poke an old enemy such as Morgarath - especially when said old enemy was being a hypocrite.

"You do realize, of course, that 'treacherous' and 'backstabbing' mean the same thing." Halt pointed out. Crowley opened his mouth to reply, but Lady Pauline chose that moment to clear her throat. Cassandra took that as her cue to keep reading.

**A platoon of Wargals -**

"Hate those things." Will remarked, and Cassandra nodded in fervent agreement. Horace also shared the sentiment.

"What - exactly - are Wargals?" Jenny asked, simultaneously curious and worried about the answer.

"Big ugly, furry brutes with muzzles and fangs." Gilan offered bluntly.

"They also smell like they recently died." Will supplied, earning him a stern glance from Alyss. "What?" He asked.

"I don't think that was necessary." Alyss reprimanded him gently, motioning slightly towards Jenny, who looked faintly ill at the thought of such a smell. Gilan gave her a warm, reassuring smile, and she relaxed a little.

**A platoon of Wargals was drilling in the castle yard below him. Morgarath watched them for a few seconds, listening to the guttural, rhythmic chant that accompanied all their movements. They were stocky, misshapen beings, with features that were halfway human, but with a long, brutish muzzle and fangs like a bear or a large dog.**

"That's a much better description." Jenny decided, then winked at a mock-wounded-looking Gilan.

 **Avoiding all contact with humans -** "Thank God." Baron Arald muttered - **the Wargals had lived and bred in these remote mountains since ancient times. No one in living memory had ever set eyes upon one,**

"If only that were true." Duncan said dryly, then gesturing for his daughter to keep reading when she looked up with in exasperation.

**but rumors and legends had persisted of a savage tribe of semi-intelligent beasts in the mountains. Morgarath, planning a revolt**

"Nice word for it - sorry, my lady." Baron Arald apologized quickly at Cassandra shot him a glare.

**...planning a revolt against the kingdom of Araluen, had left Gorlan Fief to seek them out. If such creatures existed, they would give him an edge in the war that was to come.**

**It took him months, but he eventually found them. Aside from their wordless chant, Wargals had no spoken language, relying on a primitive form of thought awareness for communication. But their minds were simply and their intellects basic. As a result, they had been totally susceptible to domination by a superior intelligence and willpower.**

"And there's his trademark arrogance." Sir Rodney remarked angrily, frowning ferociously. If it had been someone else under discussion, someone might have made an (unfounded) jab at Rodney's own (well-deserved) ego, but nobody was cruel enough to compare Redmont Fief's Battlemaster to Morgarath.

**Morgarath bent them to his will and they became the perfect army for him - ugly beyond nightmares, utterly pitiless, and bound totally to his mental orders.**

**Now, looking at them, he remembered the brightly dressed knights in glittering armor who used to compete in the tourneys at Castle Gorlan, their silk-gowned ladies cheering them on and applauding their skills.**

"Bet he misses those ladies." Crowley muttered, earning him glares from Alyss, Lady Pauline, Jenny, and Princess Cassandra, while Gilan, Will, and Horace all choked on their laughter.

**Mentally comparing them to these black-furred, misshapen creatures, he cursed again.**

Crowley spread his hands in a 'you see my point' gesture, and the glares returned.

**The Wargals, attuned to his thoughts, sensed his disturbance and stirred uncomfortably, pausing in what they were doing. Angrily, he directed them back to their drill and the chanting resumed. Morgarath moved away from the unglazed window, closer to the fire that seemed utterly incapable of dispelling the damp and chill from this gloomy castle. Fifteen years, he thought to himself again. Fifteen years since he had rebelled against the newly crowned King Duncan, a youth in his twenties. He had planned it all carefully as the old king's sickness progressed, banking on the indecision and confusion that would follow his death to split the other barons and give Morgarath his opportunity to seize the throne.**

"Because, of course, none of the barons would realize that they have a mad usurper on the throne and rally behind the _actual_ King." Halt interjected, voice loaded with sarcasm. Duncan smiled gratefully at Halt, and Baron Arald nodded.

"I don't think he thought that far ahead, somehow." Sir Rodney deadpanned, and everyone (except, of course, for Halt) laughed.

**Secretly, he had trained his army of Wargals, massing them up here in the mountains, ready for the moment to strike. Then, in the days of confusion and grief following the king's death, when the barons traveled to Castle Araluen for the funeral rites, leaving their armies leaderless, he had attacked, overrunning the southeastern quarter of the kingdom in a matter of days, routing the confused, leaderless forces that tried to oppose him.**

**Duncan, young and inexperienced -**

Cassandra's voice sharpened and she frowned at the pages at the description of her father, and Halt scowled deeply, silently marking up another slight he never got the chance to personally repay Morgarath for.

**\- could never have stood against him. The kingdom was his for the taking. The throne was his for the taking.**

"Think again, you - " Halt started, but was immediately hushed by Lady Pauline, to general laughter from the others. Cassandra continued reading with a grin on her face.

 **Then Lord Northolt, the old king's supreme commander, had rallied some of the younger barons into a loyal confederation, giving strength to Duncan's resolve and stiffening the wavering courage of the others. The armies had met at Hackham Heath** ,

Arald, Rodney, Crowley, and Duncan all glanced at Halt, who stared stonily at Cassandra as she read the rest of the chapter.

**close to the Slipsunder River, and the battle swayed in the balance for five hours, with attack and counterattack and massive loss of life. The Slipsunder was a shallow river, but its treacherous reaches of quicksand and soft mud and formed an impassable barrier, protecting Morgarath's right flank.**

**But then one of the gray-cloaked meddler known as Rangers led a force of heavy cavalry across a secret ford ten kilometers upstream. The armored horsemen appeared the crucial moment of the battle and fell upon the rear of Morgarath's army.**

Gilan and Will both grinned, and Gilan reached over to thump Halt on the shoulder. "Well done, you gray-cloaked meddler you!" He said cheerfully, earning him a baleful look from Halt that did nothing to dispel the blinding smile the younger ranger was wearing on his face.

**The Wargals, trained in the tumbled rocks of the mountains, had one weakness. They feared horses,**

"I thought they got their fear of horses _from_ that attack?" Will asked, confused. Halt merely shrugged. "It varies. Depends on who you ask." He said mildly.

**and could never stand against such a surprise cavalry attack. They broke retreating to the narrow confines of Three Step Pass, and back to the Mountains of Rain and Night. Morgarath, his rebellion defeated, went with them.**

**And here he had been exiled these fifteen years. Waiting, plotting, hating the men who had done this to him.**

"Well, you could have surrendered and you could have just been executed and we would have been done with the whole thing." Horace pointed out, earning a reproachful look, tinged with grudging mirth, from his wife, Alyss, and Lady Pauline, hearty agreement from Arald and Rodney, and mixed responses from Duncan and Will.

**Now, he thought, it was time for his revenge. His spies told him the kingdom had grown slack and complacent and his presence here was all but forgotten. The name Morgarath was a name of legend nowadays, a name mothers used to hush fractious children, threatening that if they did not behave, the black lord Morgarath would come for them.**

**The time was ripe. Once again, he would lead his Wargals into an attack. But this time, he would have allies. And this time, he would sow the ground with uncertainty and confusion beforehand. This time, none of those who conspired against him previously would be left alive to aid King Duncan.**

Unconsciously, the Lady Pauline took her husband's hand, as if to reassure herself that Halt was there, and that Morgarath's vengeful attempt on his life hadn't succeeded. Of course it hadn't, but now, with Cassandra's words echoing through the room in the dead silence, it was easy enough to let the uncertainty and fear creep through her. Cassandra continued in a hushed voice.

**For the Wargals were not the only ancient, terrifying creatures he had found in these somber mountains. He had two other allies, even more fearsome - the dreadful beasts known as the Kalkara.**

**The time was ripe to unleash them.**

A collective shiver ran around the table and the mention of the Kalkara. Rodney, Will, Arald, and Halt all recalled their nighttime fight with the two dreadful beasts. It was Gilan who finally broke the silence.

"Well, whoever wrote this certainly knows how to tell a story."


	2. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyss reads Chapter One of the Ruins of Gorlan. Awkwardness ensues.

"Who wants to read the next chapter?" Cassandra asked, and Horace immediately volunteered, took the book, scanned the first few paragraphs, and winced.

"On second thought...maybe someone else should read it." He said, trying to backtrack. Alyss offered and Horace immediately gave her the book. Will glanced quizzically at his friend, who suddenly looked highly uncomfortable and even a little apologetic. Will wondered what that chapter was about, and Alyss began to read in a clear, carrying voice.

**"Try to eat something, Will. Tomorrow's a big day, after all."** **Jenny, blond, pretty, and cheerful** \- Jenny beamed at her description - **gestured toward Will's barely touched plate and smiled encouragingly at him.**

_Oh._ Will thought, realizing why Horace hadn't wanted to read. _Choosing Day._

Awkward.

**Will made an attempt to return the smile, but it was a dismal failure. He picked at the plate before him, piled high with his favorite foods. Tonight, his stomach knotted tight with tension and anticipation, he could hardly bring himself to swallow a bite.**

Cassandra leaned forward with interest at Will, wondering what could have been so important. Duncan as well was curious, but did a better job of concealing it. Gilan had an idea, but wasn't certain, and the rest of those present knew exactly why Will was so nervous.

**Tomorrow would be a big day, he knew. He knew it all too well, in fact. Tomorrow would be the biggest day in his life -**

"Second." Will corrected, smiling at Alyss, who cheeks turned slightly pink. Halt frowned. Where had Will learned to be a romantic? Certainly not from Halt, and Gilan stumbled over his words when he was trying to talk to Jenny.

**\- because tomorrow was the Choosing Day and it would determine how he spent the rest of his life.**

"A little melodramatic, I think." Gilan said dryly, then shut up immediately as Jenny, Alyss, Will, and Horace all drilled holes into his head with their eyes.

"'Choosing Day?'" Cassandra asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. Baron Arald answered. "When they turn fifteen, the castle wards are allowed to apply for a Craftmaster." He explained. Curiosity temporarily satisfied, Cassandra nodded and smiled at Alyss, who inclined her head gracefully and continued.

**"Nerves, I imagine," said George, setting down his loaded fork and seizing the lapels of his jacket in a judicious manner. He was a thin, gangly, and studious boy, fascinated by rules and regulations and with a penchant for examining and debating both sides of any question - sometimes at great length.**

All the former wardmates laughed, both at book's description and Alyss's - quite accurate - impression of him. "That's George, all right." Horace said, shaking his head and grinning.

**"Dreadful thing, nervousness. It can just freeze you up so you can't think, can't eat, can't speak."**

**"I'm not nervous." Will said quickly,**

Will sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Lies, lies, lies." He muttered, getting a laugh out of everyone - especially himself.

_Why does nobody ever laugh at_ my _jokes like that?_ Baron Arald wondered, theatrically grumpy.

**noticing that Horace had looked up, ready to form a sarcastic comment.**

The atmosphere in the room, recently relaxed and easygoing, tensed a little, sensing that the sarcastic comment mentioned wasn't the typical brotherly ribbing the two young men occasionally gave each other.

**George nodded several times, considering Will's statement. "On the other hand," he added, "a little nervousness can actually improve performance. It can heighten your perceptions and sharpen your reactions. So, the fact that you are worried, if, in fact, you are, is not necessarily something to be worried about, of itself - so to speak."**

"That's George." Alyss, Will, Horace, and Jenny spoke in unison, laughing again. The tension eased considerably, but it was still there.

**In spite of himself, a wry smile touched Will's mouth. George would be a natural in the legal profession, he thought. He would almost certainly be the Scribemaster's choice on the following morning Perhaps, Will thought, that was at the heart of his own problem. He was the only one of the wardmates who had any fears about the Choosing that would take place within twelve hours.**

"Selling yourself short, Will." Sir Rodney admonished, but he was grinning. Will raised an eyebrow in a sound impression of Halt. "And yet..." He started, before a grin broke through.

_"Ow!_ Alyss!" He complained, pouting at his wife and rubbing his ribs again. Alyss smiled serenely at him and continued reading as Will shot 'how-do-you-deal-with-this' looks at Horace and Halt.

**"He ought to be nervous!" Horace scoffed** \- Horace winced - **"After all, which Craftmaster is going to want** ** _him_** **as an apprentice?"**

Gasps and mutters ran around the table, almost immediately quelled by Will's glare and Horace's obvious embarrassment. Still, the recently-dispelled tension was back.

**"I'm sure we're all nervous," Alyss said. She directed one of her rare smiles at Will. "We'd be stupid not to be."**

**"Well, I'm not!" Horace said, then reddened as Alyss raised one eyebrow and Jenny giggled.**

"Is that Redmont's trademark?" King Duncan wondered, to which Baron Arald, Sir Rodney, Halt, Will, Jenny, Horace, and Alyss all responded by raising one eyebrow. Cassandra giggled.

**It was typical of Alyss, Will thought. He knew that the tall, graceful girl** \- Alyss smiled fifteen-year-old Will's description of her - **had already been promised a place as an apprentice by Lady Pauline, head of Castle Redmont's Diplomatic Service. Her pretense that she was nervous about the following day, and her tact in refraining from pointing out Horace's gaffe, showed that she was already a diplomat of some skill.**

"Only some?" Arald asked, eyebrows raised. Very expressive things, eyebrows. Alyss flushed and Will grinned. "So I was selling her short. Nerves."

**Jenny, of course, would gravitate immediately to the castle kitchens, domain of Master Chubb, Redmont's head chef. He was a man renowned throughout the kingdom for the banquets served in the castle's massive dining hall. Jenny loved food and cooking, and her easygoing nature and unfailing good humor would make her an invaluable staff member in the turmoil of the castle kitchens.**

"Gilan, you can take credit for those words if you like." Will joked, grin widening as his friend's ears went red and Sir Rodney roared with laughter. Halt shook his head. _Young people._

**Battleschool would be Horace's choice. Will glanced at his wardmate now, hungrily tucking into the roast turkey, ham and potatoes that he had heaped onto his plate.**

"So this 'Kurokuma' business isn't a recent development, I take it?" Duncan interjected, and Horace grinned.

"Used to go through half the winter stores in the first month, your majesty." Baron Arald put in, and Horace bowed slightly. "Thank you, my lord." He said dryly.

**Horace was big for his age** \- "Understatement" muttered Sir Rodney - **and a natural athlete. The chances that he would be refused were virtually nonexistent. Horace was exactly the type of recruit that Sir Rodney looked for in his warrior apprentices. Strong, athletic, fit. And, thought Will a trifle sourly, not too bright.**

Sir Rodney looked at Will in mock offense. Will grinned and mouthed 'sorry' over the table, and the exchange bought a few laughs from those gathered - especially from Baron Arald.

**Battleschool was the path to knighthood for boys like Horace - born commoners but with the physical abilities to serve as knights of the kingdom.**

"Of course, being the best swordsman this side of MacNeil doesn't hurt at all." Gilan and Sir Rodney put in, speaking in synch. Horace looked at them suspiciously.

"You practiced that." He muttered, but a flush of pleasure at the praise colored his face.

**Which left Will. What would his choice be? More importantly, as Horace had pointed out, what Craftmaster would accept him as an apprentice?**

"Selling yourself short as usual, I see." King Duncan put in dryly.

"As opposed to the tall side, Dad?" Cassandra put in, unable to resist. The table laughed - and none as hard as Will himself.

**For Choosing Day was the pivotal point in the life of the castle wards. They were orphan children raised by the generosity of Baron Arald, the Lord of Redmont Fief. For the most part, their parents had died in the service of the fief, and the Baron saw it as his responsibility to care for and raise the children of his former subjects - and to give them an opportunity to improve their station in life wherever possible.**

**Choosing Day provided that opportunity.**

"Drama, drama, drama." Halt drawled. Will, for once not amused by his master's sally, glanced at him a trifle sourly. Backed up by Alyss and Lady Pauline, Halt took the point at once.

**Each year, castle wards turning fifteen could apply to be apprenticed to the masters of the various crafts that served the castle and its people. Ordinarily, craft apprentices were selected by dint of their parents' occupations of influence with the Craftmasters. The castle wards usually had no such influence and this was their chance to win a future for themselves.**

**Those wards who weren't chosen, or for whom no openings could be found, would be assigned to farming families in the nearby village, providing farm labor to raise the crops and animals that fed the castle inhabitants. In was rare for this to happen, Will knew. The Baron and his Craftmasters usually went out of their way to fit the wards into one craft or another. But it could happen and it was a fate he feared more than anything.**

**Horace caught his eye now and gave him a smug smile.**

Horace studied the table. Baron Arald frowned slightly, and the skin around Halt's eyes tightened.

**"Still planning on applying for Battleschool, Will?" he asked through a mouthful of turkey and potatoes. "Better eat something then. You'll need to build yourself up a little."**

"You did look half-starved back then." Alyss admitted. Will shrugged. "True." He acknowledged.

**He snorted with laughter and Will glowered at him. A few weeks previously, Horace had overheard Will confiding to Alyss that he desperately wanted to be selected for Battleschool, and he had made Will's life a misery ever since, pointing out on every possible occasion that Will's slight build was totally unsuited for the rigors of Battleschool training.**

Horace, met with a death glare from Halt that was only cut off at a soft word from Lady Pauline, seemed to shrink in his seat, and shot Will a deeply apologetic glance. Will waved away with one hand and grinned as if to say the matter was past - which it was.

**The fact that Horace was probably right only made matters worse. Where Horace was tall and muscular, Will was small and wiry. He was agile and fast and surprisingly strong, but he simply didn't have the size that he knew was required of Battleschool apprentices. He'd hoped against hope for the past few years that he would have what people called his "growing spurt" before the Choosing Day came around. But it had never happened and now the day was nearly here.**

"All things considered, I think things turned out quite well." Sir Rodney observed, and Halt nodded in silent agreement.

**As Will said nothing, Horace sensed that he had scored a verbal hit. This was a rarity in their turbulent relationship.**

"And it still is." Will added. Horace made a 'true' face and Alyss continued.

**Over the past few years, he and Will had clashed repeatedly. Being the stronger of the two, Horace usually got the better of Will, although very occasionally Will's speed and agility allowed to him to get in a surprise kick or a punch and then escape before Horace could catch him.**

The tightness around Halt's eyes had turned into a small frown now, and Horace seemed to be trying to disappear into his chair.

**But while Horace generally had the best of their physical clashes, it was unusual for him to win any of their verbal encounters.**

"And again, it still is." Horace joked, getting a few smiles.

**Will's wit was as agile as the rest of him and he almost always managed to have the last word. In fact, it was this tendency that often led to trouble between them: Will was yet to lean that having the last word was not always a good idea.**

Halt snorted. "You still haven't quite mastered _that_ concept."

Will smiled angelically. "I know."

**Horace decided now to press his advantage.** **"You need muscles to get into Battleschool, Will. Real muscles,"**

"Particularly between the ears." Sir Rodney put in, lifting an eyebrow in Will's direction.

**he said, glancing at the others around the table to see if anyone disagreed. The other wards, uncomfortable at the growing tension between the two boys, concentrated on their plates.**

**"Particularly between the ears," Will replied and, unfortunately, Jenny couldn't refrain from giggling.**

"Called it." Will said on Sir Rodney's behalf, nodding to him.

**Horace's face flushed and he started to rise from his seat. But Will was quicker and he was already at the door before Horace could disentangle himself from his chair. He contented himself with hurling a final insult after his retreating wardmate.**

**"That's right! Run away, Will No-Name! You're a no-name and nobody will want you as an apprentice!"**

Will winced. That still stung, even over five years later and with a name of his own. _Treaty. Will Treaty._

Halt was staring muted daggers at Horace now, and Cassandra looked mildly uncomfortable. Horace looked like he wanted to shrink.

Will sighed inwardly. Admittedly, the last insult was still painful, but he didn't hold it against Horace. They had been young and stupid, and it was a thing of the past.

"Let it go, Halt." He said quietly. Halt looked at him in mild surprise, but nodded and ceased glaring at Horace. King Duncan, Baron Arald, and Sir Rodney wisely did not get involved, but Will thought he caught a glimmer of approval in the Baron's eyes.

Halt, for his part, knew it was unfair of him to be glaring at the obviously-repentant Horace. However, his protectiveness for Will had kicked in, and on top of the in-his-face reading of the chapter, it was hard not to be angry.

**In the anteroom outside, Will heard the parting sally and felt blood flush to his cheeks. It was the taunt he hated most, although he had tried never to let Horace know that, sensing that he would provide the bigger boy with a weapon if he did.**

**The truth was, nobody knew Will's second name. Nobody knew who his parents had been.**

That was no longer true, of course; Halt, Lady Pauline, Baron Arald, Will - and Alyss, for Will had told her shortly after their marriage - all knew, but it certainly wasn't general knowledge.

**Unlike his yearmates, who had lived in the fief before their parents had died and whose family histories were known, Will had appeared, virtually out of nowhere, as a newborn baby. He had been found, wrapped in a small blanket and placed in a basket, on the steps of the ward building fifteen years ago. A note had been attached to the blanket, reading simply:**

_**His mother died in childbirth. His father died a hero.** _

_**Please care for him. His name is Will.** _

Silence hung heavy over the room. Sir Rodney glanced at the boy - the young man, he reminded himself, Will was no boy - and felt definite sympathy for him. He'd been given a hard start in life, and had certainly made a great deal out of that start.

**That year, there had been only one other ward. Alyss's father was a cavalry lieutenant who had died in the battle at Hackham Heath, when Morgarath's Wargal army had been defeated and driven back to the mountains. Alyss's mother, devastated by her loss, succumbed to a fever some weeks after giving birth. So there was plenty of room in the Ward for the unknown child, and Baron Arald was, at heart, a kindly man.**

"Can't argue there." Will put in, and Horace nodded in total agreement. Arald smiled.

**Even though the circumstances were unusual, he had given permission for Will to be accepted as a ward of Castle Redmont. It seemed logical to assume that, if the note were true, Will's father had died in the war against Morgarath, and since Baron Arald had taken a leading part in that war, he felt duty bound to honor the unknown father's sacrifice.**

**So Will had become a Redmont ward, raised and educated by the Baron's generosity. As time passed, the others had gradually joined him and Alyss until there were five in their year group. But while the others had memories of their parents or, in Alyss's case, people who had known them and who could tell her about them, Will knew nothing of his past.**

**That was why he had invented the story that had sustained him throughout his childhood in the Ward. And, as the years passed and he added detail and color to the story, he eventually came to believe it himself.**

Will grimaced mentally, remembering the story - and how very inaccurate it had been.

**His father, he knew, had died a hero's death. So it made sense to create a picture of him as a hero - a knight warrior in full armor, fighting against the Wargal hordes, cutting them down left and right until eventually he was overcome by sheer weight of numbers. Will had pictured the tall figure so often in his mind, seeing every detail of his armor and his equipment but never being able to visualize his face.**

**As a warrior, his father would expect him to follow in his footsteps.**

Sir Rodney sighed internally. Why did young people inevitably assume that their parents wanted them to do what they had done?

**That was why selection for Battleschool was so important to Will. And that was why the more unlikely it became that he would be selected, the more desperately he clung to the hope that he might.**

**He exited from the Ward building into the darkened castle yard. The sun was long down and the torches placed every twenty meters or so on the castle walls shed a flickering, uneven light. He hesitated a moment. He would not return to the Ward and face Horace's continued taunts.** \- Halt had to make a conscious effort not to scowl at the young knight again - **To do so would only lead to another fight between them - a fight that Will knew that he would probably lose. George would probably try to analyze the situation for him, looking at both sides of the question and thoroughly confusing the issue. Alyss and Jenny might try to comfort him, he knew - Alyss particularly since they had grown up together.**

Alyss threw an exasperated look at her husband. "You really are utterly oblivious when it comes to women, aren't you?" She asked mildly, and Cassandra stifled an unladylike snort.

**But at that moment he didn't want their sympathy** \- "typical man" Cassandra muttered - **and he couldn't face Horace's taunts** \- Horace shrank a little - **so he headed for the one place where he knew he could find solitude.**

**The huge fig tree growing close by the castle's central tower had often afforded him a haven. Heights held no fear for Will and he climbed smoothly into the tree, continuing long after another might have stopped, until he was in the lighter branches at the very top - branches that swayed and dipped under his weight. In the past, he had often escaped from Horace up here. The bigger boy couldn't match Will's speed in the tree and he was unwilling to follow as high as this. Will found a convenient fork and wedged himself in it, his body giving slightly to the movement of the tree as the branches swayed in the evening breeze. Below, the foreshortened figures of the watch made their rounds of the castle yard.**

"Were you ever not in that fig tree?" Baron Arald wondered aloud. Will shrugged. "Not really." He answered, grinning. "It was a very nice tree."

**He heard the door of the Ward building open and, glancing down, saw Alyss emerge, looking around the yard for him in vain. The tall girl hesitated a few moments, then, seeming to shrug, turned back inside. The elongated rectangle of light that the open door threw across the yard was cut off as she closed the door softly behind her. Strange, he thought, how seldom people tend to look up.**

Halt nodded. He wasn't a tree climber like Will, but he knew the advantages of hiding in trees. People never did look up when they were searching for someone.

"I'll make a note of that." Alyss teased, and Will reacted with mock horror, his eyes going wide and and his mouth dropping open just a little. Horace grinned, Jenny and Crowley both laughed, and Gilan tried and failed to stifle his chuckles.

**There was a rustle of soft feathers and a barn owl landed on the next branch, its head swiveling, its huge eyes catching every last ray of faint light. It studied him without concern, seeming to knew it had nothing to fear from him. It was a hunter. A silent flyer. A ruler of the night.**

**"At least you know who you are," he said softly to the bird.**

"A bird." Crowley said bluntly, getting the entire table to laugh.

**It swiveled its head again, then launched itself off into the darkness, leaving him alone with his thoughts.**

Gilan grinned. "Will, you were an apprentice. You weren't ready to think."

"I was wondering when that would come up." Will muttered, still grinning.

**Gradually, as he sat there, the lights in the castle windows went out, one by one. The torches burnt down to smoldering husks and were replaced at midnight by the change of watch. Eventually, there was only one light left burning and the, he knew, was in the Baron's study, where the Lord of Redmont was still presumably at work, poring over reports and papers.**

"Dreadfully tedious work, that." Baron Arald remarked, and Crowley nodded in sympathy.

King Duncan huffed. "Perhaps I could give the two of you some of my paperwork, see how much you complain then."

**The study was virtually level with Will's position in the tree and he could see the burly figure of the Baron seated at his desk. Finally Baron Arald rose, stretched and leaned forward to extinguish the lamp as he left the room, heading for his sleeping quarters on the floor above. Now the castle was asleep, except for the guards on the walls, who kept constant watch.**

**In less than nine hours, Will realized, he would face the Choosing. Silently, miserably, fearing the worse, he climbed down from the tree and made his way to his bed in the darkened boys' dormitory in the Ward.**

"That's the end of the chapter." Alyss said, lowering the book. Will nodded. "Right." He said decisively. "Then there's a few things I want to clear up. Horace - " The big knight started as Will pointed at him " - stop looking so guilty. It was years ago and we've saved each others' lives enough times that it doesn't matter anymore. Halt, please stop trying to shoot arrows out of your eyes. Everyone please stop dancing around the subject."

Crowley nodded. "Well said, Will." He said, applauding slightly. Will flushed a little, and he and Horace grinned at each other. The hatchet, which had recently been reanimated by that chapter, was now buried for good.


	3. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Rodney reads Chapter 2 of Ruins of Gorlan. Hilarity Ensues.

"Who wants to read next?" Alyss asked, looking around.

"I will." Sir Rodney offered, and Alyss passed the book to him with a smile. Rodney glanced at the page and raised his eyes to heaven. "God help us all." He muttered and started reading.

**"All right candidates! This way! And look lively!"**

The room burst into laughter at Rodney's approximation of Martin - because it was so obviously Martin. Baron Arald in particular was highly amused.

 **The speaker, or more correctly the shouter, was Martin, secretary to Baron Arald. As his voice echoed around the anteroom, the five wards rose uncertainly from the long wooden benches where they had been seated. Suddenly nervous** \- "Understatement," muttered Will - **now that the day had finally arrived, they began to shuffle forward, each one reluctant to be the first through the great ironbound door that Martin now held open for them.**

**"Come on, come on!" Martin bellowed impatiently. Alyss finally elected to lead the way, as Will had guessed she would. The others followed the willowy blonde girl. Now that someone had decided to lead, the rest of them were content to follow.**

Baron Arald shook his head. He was found of Martin, he really was, but the man could be utterly ridiculous at times.

 **Will looked around curiously** \- "That hasn't changed," Crowley interjected dryly - **as he entered the Baron's study. He'd never been in this part of the castle before. This tower, containing the administrative section and the Baron's private apartments, was seldom visited by those of low rank - such as castle wards.**

"Since when has that stopped you?" Gilan demanded, raising his eyebrows at Will, who had the grace to redden.

**The room was huge. The ceiling seemed to tower above him and the walls were constructed of massive stone blocks, fitted together with only the barest lines of mortar between them. On the eastern wall was a huge window space - open to the elements but with massive wooden shutters that could be closed in the event of bad weather. It was the same window he had seen through last night, he realized. Today, sunlight streamed in an fell on the huge oak table that Baron Arald used as a desk.**

**"Come on now! Stand in line, stand in line!" Martin seemed to be enjoying his moment of authority.**

"He gets so few." Halt snarked quietly. Will couldn't help but laugh, unfair as it was. Martin was only trying to help.

**The group shuffled slowly into line and he studied them, his mouth twisted in disapproval.**

**"In size place! Tallest this end!" He indicated the end where he wanted the tallest of the five to stand. Gradually, the group rearranged itself. Horace, of course, was the tallest. After him, Alyss took her position. Then George, half a head shorter than she and painfully thin.**

"You see, I'm not the only one!" Will exclaimed, spreading his hands.

"At least he _ate."_ Jenny retorted, and Will pouted. "I _eat._ " He mumbled.

"Not enough!" Jenny complained. "You're made of toothpicks."

**He stood in his usual stoop-shouldered posture. Will and Jenny hesitated. Jenny smiled at Will and gestured for him to go before her, even though she was possibly an inch taller than he was.**

"More now." Gilan said approvingly, eying Jenny, who blushed.

**That was typical of Jenny. She knew how Will agonized over the fact that he was the smallest of all the castle wards. As Will moved into the line, Martin's voice stopped him.**

**"Not you! The girl's next!"**

"And of course, he shouted." Will put in, making Baron Arald and Sir Rodney both roar with laughter.

**Jenny shrugged apologetically and moved into the place Martin had indicated. Will took the last place in the line, wishing Martin hadn't made his lack of height so apparent.**

**"Come on! Smarten up, smarten up! Let's see you at attention there," Martin continued, then broke off as a deep voice interrupted him.**

**"I don't believe that's totally necessary, Martin."**

"Oh thank God." Cassandra groaned, exhaling.

**It was Baron Arald, who had entered unobserved, by way of a smaller door behind his massive desk. Now it was Martin who brought himself to what he considered to be a position of attention, with his skinny elbows held out from his sides, his heels forced together so that his unmistakably bowed legs were widely separated at the knees, and his head thrown back.  
**

The table burst out laughing at the book's description of Martin.

**Baron Arald raised his eyes to heaven. Sometimes his secretary's zeal on these occasions could be a little overwhelming. The Baron was a big man, broad in shoulder and waist and heavily muscled, as was necessary for a knight of the realm.**

Baron Arald puffed up a little at this description of himself. Sir Rodney coughed politely, a slight grin on his face, and Baron Arald's expression turned suspicious as Rodney continued.

**It was well known, however, that Baron Arald was fond of his food and drink, so his considerable bulk was not totally attributable to muscle.**

Sir Rodney broke down laughing towards the end of the sentence.

"Oh for God's sake man! It's not that funny!" Arald barked irritably at a helplessly laughing Sir Rodney. Well, the entire table really, but especially Sir Rodney. Eventually, Rodney managed to to get himself back under control and continue reading.

**He had a short, neatly trimmed black beard that, like his hair, was beginning to show the traces of gray that went with his forty-two years. He had a strong jaw, a large nose and dark, piercing eyes under heavy brows. It was a powerful face, but not an unkind one, Will thought.**

"Thank you Will." Baron Arald said wryly. Will beamed at him. "Of course."

**There was a surprising hint of humor in those dark eyes. Will had noted it before, on the occasions when Arald had made his infrequent visits to the wards' quarters to see how their lessons and personal development were progressing.**

**"Sir!" Martin said at top volume, causing the Baron to wince slightly. "The candidates are assembled!"**

"You don't say?" King Duncan put in. More laughter.

**"I can see that," Baron Arald replied patiently. "Perhaps you might be good enough to ask the Craftmasters to step in as well?"**

**"Sir!" Martin responded, making an attempt to click his heels together. As he was wearing shoes of a soft, pliable leather, the attempt was doomed to failure.**

Chortles ran through the room as the mental image of Martin trying to click the heels of soft, pliable leather shoes together.

**He marched toward the main door of the study, all elbows and knees. Will was reminded of a rooster. As Martin laid his hand on the door handle, the Baron stopped him once more.  
**

**"Martin?" He said softly. As the secretary turned an inquiring look back at him, he continued in the same quiet tone, "Ask them. Don't bellow at them. Craftmasters don't like that** \- damn right we don't." Rodney muttered.

**"Yes, sir," said Martin, looking somewhat deflated. He opened the door and, making an obvious effort to speak in a lower tone, said, "Craftmasters. The Baron is ready now."**

**The Craftschool heads entered the room in no particular order of precedence. As a group, they admired and respected on another and so rarely stood on strict ceremonial procedure. Sir Rodney** \- and now I'm reading about myself, this is strange." Sir Rodney continued, deadpan as ever.

 **...head of the Battleschool, came first. Tall and broad-shouldered like the Baron, he wore the standard battledress of chain mail shirt under a white surcoat emblazoned with his own crest, a scarley wolfshead. He had earned that crest as a young man, fighting the wolfships of the Skandian sea raiders who constantly harried the kingdom's east coast. He wore a sword belt and sword, of course. No knight would be seen in public without one. He was around the Baron's age, with blue eyes and a face that would have been remarkably handsome** \- "Why thank you, Will," - **if it weren't for the massively broken nose.** Sir Rodney mock-glared at Will.

**He sported an enormous mustache but, unlike the Baron, he had no beard.**

**Next came Ulf, the Horsemaster, responsible for the care and training fo the castle's mighty battlehorses. He had keen brown eyes, strong, muscular forearms and heavy wrists. He wore a simple leather vest over his woolen shirt and leggings. Tall riding boots of soft leather reached up past his knees.**

**Lady Pauline followed Ulf. Slim, gray-haired and elegant, she had been a considerable beauty in her youth and still had the grace and style to turn men's heads.**

Halt frowned at this.

**Lady Pauline, who had been awarded the title in her own right for her work in foreign policy for the kingdom, was head of the Diplomatic Service in Redmont. Baron Arald regarded her abilities highly and she was one of his close confidants and advisers. Arald often said that girls made the best recruits to the Diplomatic Service. They tended to be more subtle than boys, who gravitated naturally to Battleschool. And while boys constantly looked to physical means as the way of solving problems, girls could be depended on to use their wits.**

**It was perhaps only natural that Nigel, the Scribemaster, followed close behind Lady Pauline. They had been discussing matters of mutual interest** \- Halt looked mildly jealous, but did a surprisingly good job of hiding it - **while they waited for Martin to summon them. Nigel and Lady Pauline were close friends as well as professional colleagues. It was Nigel's trained scribes who prepared the official documents and communiqués that were so often delivered by Lady Pauline's diplomats. He also advised on the exact wording of such documents, having an extensive background in legal matters. Nigel was a small, wiry man with a quick, inquisitive face that reminded will of a ferret.**

Rodney looked up and raised one eyebrow at Will. "A ferret, Will? Truly?" Jenny, Horace, Gilan, and Cassandra were all laughing, and Alyss was smiling in that restrained way she had that Will knew was her way of being polite when she would rather laugh aloud.

**His hair was glossy black, his features were thin and his dark eyes never ceased roaming the room.**

**Master Chubb, the castle cook, came in last of all. Inevitably, he was a fat, round-bellied man, wearing a cook's white jacket and tall hat. He was known to have a terrible temper that would flare as quickly as oil spilled on a fire, and most of the wards treated him with considerable caution. Florid-faced and with red, rapidly receding hair, Master Chubb carried a wooden ladle with him wherever he went. It was an unofficial staff of office.**

"May well make it official when I get back to Redmont." Baron Arald muttered.

**It was also used quite often as an offensive weapon, landing with a resounding crack on the heads of careless, forgetful or slow-moving kitchen apprentices. Alone among the group, Jenny saw Chubb as something of a hero. It was her avowed intention to work for him and learn his skills, wooden ladle or no wooden ladle.  
**

**There were other Craftmasters, of course. The Armorer and the Blacksmith were two. But only those Craftmasters who currently had vacancies for new apprentices would be represented today.**

**"The Craftmasters are assembled, sir!" Martin said, his voice rising in volume. Martin seemed to equate volume and the importance of the occasion in direct proportion.**

"That's certainly true." Halt put in emphatically.

**Once again, the Baron raised his eyes to heaven.**

**"So I see," he said quietly, then added, in a more formal tone, "Good morning, Lady Pauline. Good morning, gentlemen."**

**They replied and the Baron turned to Martin once more. "Perhaps we might proceed?"**

"Here we go." Duncan said resignedly.

**Martin nodded several times, consulted a sheaf of notes he held in one hand and marched to confront the lne of candidates.**

**"Right, the Baron's waiting! The Baron's waiting! Who's first?"**

**Will, eyes down, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, suddenly had the strange sensation that someone was watching him. He looked up and actually started with surprise as he met the dark, unfathomable gaze of Halt, the Ranger.**

"Everybody run." Gilan deadpanned, and the room - with the notable exception of Halt - laughed aloud. Halt glared at Gilan, but the younger man was unfazed...as per the usual lately, it seemed.

**Will hadn't seen him come into the room. He realized that the mysterious figure must have slipped in through a side door while everyone's attention was on the Craftmasters as they made their entrance. Now he stood behind the Baron's chair and slightly to one side, dressed in his usual brown and gray clothes and wrapped in his long , mottled gray and green Ranger's cloak. Halt was an unnerving person.**

"Really, what was your first clue?" Jenny put in. Gilan laughed quietly, joined by Will and Alyss. Halt frowned at them all.

**He had a habit of coming up on you when you least expected it - and you never heard his approach. The superstitious villagers believed that Rangers practiced a form of magic that made them invisible to ordinary people. Will wasn't sure if he believed that - but he wasn't sure he disbelieved it either. He wondered why Halt was here today.**

"Admiring the stonework, Will, why do you think?" Halt interjected. Will grinned.

**He wasn't recognized as one of the Craftmasters and, as far as Will knew, he hadn't attended a Choosing session prior to this one.**

**Abruptly, Halt's gaze cut away from him and it was as if a light had been turned off. Will realized that Martin was talking once more. He noticed that the secretary had a habit of repeating statements, as if he were followed by his own personal echo.**

Baron Arald, who had found most of this chapter highly amusing, was once again roaring with mirth.

**"Now then, who's first? Who's first?"**

**The Baron sighed audibly. "Why don't we take the first in line?" he suggested in a reasonable tone, and Martin nodded several times.**

**"Of course, my lord. Of course. First in line, step forward and face the Baron."**

**After a moment's hesitation, Horace stepped forward out of the line and stood at attention. The Baron studied him for a few seconds.**

**"Name?" He said, and Horace answered, stumbling slightly over the correct method of address for the Baron.**

**"Horace Altman, sir...my lord."**

**"And do you have a preference, Horace?" the Baron asked, with the air of one who knows what the answer is going to be before hearing it.**

"It was slightly obvious." Will put in, and Horace grinned unashamedly.

"Just a little." Sir Rodney agreed and continued.

**"Battleschool, sir!" Horace said firmly.**

**The Baron nodded. He'd expected as much. He glanced at Rodney, who was studying the boy thoughtfully, assessing his suitability.**

**"Battlemaster?" the Baron said. Normally he would address Rodney by his first name, not his title. But this was a formal occasion. By the same token, Rodney would usually address the Baron as "sir". But on a day like today, "my lord" was the proper form.**

**The big knight stepped forward, his chain mail and spurs chinking slightly as he moved closer to Horace. He eyed the boy up and down, then moved behind him. Horace's head started to turn with him.**

**"Still." Sir Rodney said, and the boy ceased his movement, staring straight ahead.**

**"Looks strong enough, my lord, and I can always use new trainees." He rubbed one hand over his chin. "You ride, Horace Altman?"**

**A look of uncertainty crossed Horace's face as he realized this might be a hurdle to his selection. "Well...no, sir. I..."**

**He was about to add that castle wards had little chance to learn to ride, but Sir Rodney interrupted him.**

**"No matter. That can be taught." The big knight looked at the Baron and nodded. "Very well, my lord. I'll take him for Battleschool, subject to the usual three-month probationary period."  
**

"Oh yay." Horace mock-whispered to Cassandra. "Probationary period sounds _wonderful."_

Lady Pauline shot them both a pained look, with just enough amusement shining through that the two young people knew she didn't mean it. "You know, we almost made it through an entire page without any interruptions..."

**The Baron made a note on a sheet of paper before him and smiled briefly at the delighted, and very relieved, youth before him.**

**"Congratulations, Horace. Report to Battleschool tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock sharp."**

**"Yes, sir!" Horace replied, grinning widely. He turned to Sir Rodney and bowed slightly** \- "What happened to bowing, Horace?" Sir Rodney asked. Horace went a little red, then noticed that Redmont's Battlemaster was grinning and realized his leg was being pulled.

**"Thank you, sir!"**

**"Don't thank me yet," the knight replied cryptically. "You don't know what you're in for."**

"Understatement of the century." Horace said firmly.


	4. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Duncan reads Chapter 3 of the Ruins of Gorlan. Snark ensues.

King Duncan had offered to read next, and Sir Rodney handed him the book. King Duncan, scanning the first few paragraphs, bit back a smile and began reading.

**"Who's next then?" Martin was calling as Horace, grinning broadly, stepped back into the line. Alyss stepped forward gracefully, annoying Martin, who had wanted to nominate her as the next candidate.**

"Naturally." Halt said dryly. Baron Arald snorted

**"Alyss Mainwaring,my lord," she said in her quiet, level , before she could be asked, she continued,"I request an appointment to the Diplomatic Service, please, my lord."**

Lady Pauline smiled at Alyss, who smiled back, going slightly pink. Will grinned at his wife.

**Arald smiled at the solemn-looking girl. She had an air of self-confidence and poise about her that would suit her well in the Service. He glanced at Lady Pauline. "My lady?" he said. She nodded her head several times. "I've already spoken to Alyss, my lord. I believe she will be an excellent candidate. Approved and accepted." Alyss made a small bow of her head in the direction of the woman who would be her mentor. Will thought how alike they were — both tall and elegant in their movements, both grave in manner.**

"Nobody can say Rangers don't have a type." Crowley said cheerfully. Halt glared at him, Will flushed bright red, and both Alyss and Lady Pauline looked mildly pleased with themselves.

 **He felt a small surge of pleasure for his oldest companion, knowing how much she had wanted this selection. Alyss stepped back in line and Martin, not to be forestalled this** **time,**

"Of course not." Baron Arald groused irritably.

**was already pointing to George. "Right! You're next! You're next! Address the Baron." George stepped forward. His mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came other wards watched in surprise. George, long regarded by them all as the official advocate for just about everything, was overcome with stage fright.**

"He's better now." Horace said, poker-faced, as he remembered his time with George in Nihon-Ja.

**He finally managed to say something in a low voice that nobody in the room could hear. Baron Arald leaned forward, one hand cupped behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that," he said. George looked up at the Baron and, with an enormous effort, spoke in a just-audible voice. "G-George Carter, sir. Scribeschool, sir."**

"And, enter Martin..." Will started, then trailed off.

 **Martin,ever a stickler for the proprieties,** \- "Called it." Will muttered - **drew breath to berate him for the truncated nature of his address, but before he could do so, and to everyone's evident relief, Baron Arald stepped in.**

"Thank God." Cassandra put in.

**"Very well, Martin. Let it go." Martin looked a little aggrieved, but Baron glanced at Nigel, his chief scribe and legal officer, one eyebrow raised in question. "Acceptable,my lord," he said, adding, "I've seen some of George's work and he really does have a gift for calligraphy." The Baron looked doubtful. "He's not the most forceful of speakers, though, is he, Scribemaster? That could be a problem if he has to offer legal counsel at any time in the future."**

"Arald!" Crowley said, genuinely shocked (although he was exaggerating for the sake of comedy). "How _could_ you?"

"I was just making sure!" The Baron frowned back.

**Nigel shrugged the objection aside. "I promise you, my lord, with proper training that sort of thing represents no problem. Absolutely no problem at all, my lord." The Scribemaster folded his hands together into the wide sleeves of the monk-like habit he wore as he warmed to his theme. "I remember a boy who joined us some seven years back, rather like this one here, as a matter of fact. He had that same habit of mumbling to his shoes — but we soon showed him how to overcome it. Some of our most reluctant speakers have gone on to develop absolute eloquence, my lord, absolute eloquence." The Baron drew breath to comment, but Nigel continued in his discourse. "It may even surprise you to hear that as a boy, I myself suffered from a most terrible nervous stutter. Absolutely terrible, my lord. Could barely put two words together at a time."**

"Much less of a problem now." Jenny put in cheerfully. Gilan laughed, and Will treated him to a crap-eating grin.

**"Hardly a problem now, I see," the Baron managed to put in dryly, and Nigel smiled, taking the point. He bowed to the Baron. "Exactly, my** **lord. We'll soon help young George overcome his shyness. Nothing like the rough and tumble of Scribeschool for that. Absolutely."**

Will and Horace snorted skeptically, and Alyss raised her eyebrows elegantly. Lady Pauline merely smiled.

**The Baron smiled in spite of himself. Scribeschool was a studious place where voices were rarely, if ever, raised and where logical, reasoned debate reigned supreme. Personally, on his visits to the place,he had found it mind-numbing in the extreme. Anything less like a rough and tumble atmosphere he could not imagine.**

**"I'll take your word for it," he replied, then to George he said, "Very well, George, request granted. Report to Scribeschool tomorrow."**

**George shuffled his feet awkwardly."Mumble-mumble-mumble,"he said and the Baron leaned forward again, frowning as he tried to make out the low-pitched words.**

**"What was that?" He asked.**

**George finally looked up and managed to whisper, "Thank you, my lord." He hurriedly shuffled back to the relative anonymity of the line. "Oh," said the Baron, a little taken aback. "Think nothing of it."**

"You've... _never,_ been thanked before?" Gilan asked, frowning. Baron Arald just shrugged, not really deigning to answer.

 **"Now, next is..." Jenny was already stepping forward. Blonde and pretty** \- Jenny beamed at this description - **she was also, it had to be admitted, a little on the chubby side. But the look suited her, and at any of the castle's social functions, she was a much sought-after dance partner with the boys in the castle, both her year-mates in the Ward and the sons of castle staff as well.**

Gilan's expression was a mixture of pride and jealousy that set Will to smothered laughter. Sir Rodney was chuckling, Crowley was roaring openly, and even Halt looked amused in his own, Halt-ish way.

**"Master Chubb, sir!" she said now, stepping forward right to the edge of the Baron's Baron looked into the round face, saw the eagerness shining there in the blue eyes, and couldn't help smiling at her. "What about him?" he asked gently and she hesitated, realizing that, in her enthusiasm, she had breached the protocol of the Choosing.**

"Oops." Jenny said, perfectly straight-faced for about five seconds before she burst out laughing with Baron Arald.

**"Oh! Your pardon, sir...my...Baron...your lordship,"**

"'Your lordship', I haven't heard that one before..." Sir Rodney started dryly.

**She hastily improvised, her tongue running away with her as she mangled the correct form of address. "My lord!" Martin prompted her. Baron Arald looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Yes, Martin?" he said. "What is it?" Martin had the grace to look knew that his master was intentionally misunderstanding his interruption. He took a deep breath, and said in an apologetic tone, "I ...simply wanted to inform you that the candidate's name is Jennifer Dalby, sir."**

The room was laughing again, and at Martins' expense - again.

**The Baron nodded at him, and Martin, a devoted servant of the heavy bearded man, saw the look of approval in his lord's eyes. "Thank you, Martin. Now, Jennifer Dalby..."**

**"Jenny,sir,"said the irrepressible girl, and he shrugged resignedly. "Jenny, then. I assume that you are applying to be apprenticed to Master Chubb?"  
"Oh,yes, please, sir!"Jenny replied breathlessly, turning adoring eyes on the portly, red-haired cook. Chubb scowled thoughtfully and considered her.**

"As if he hadn't already made up his mind." Sir Rodney muttered, although the hints of a smile were lurking under his mustache.

**"Mmmmm ...could be, could be," he muttered, walking back and forth in front of her. She smiled winningly at him, but Chubb was beyond such feminine wiles. "I'd work hard, sir," she told him earnestly.**

"Naturally." Jenny said spiritedly.

**"I know you would!"he replied with some spirit. "I'd make sure of it, girl. No slacking or lollygagging in my kitchen, let me tell you." Fearing that her opportunity might be slipping away, Jenny played her trump card. "I have the right shape for it," she said. Chubb had to agree that she was well rounded. Arald, not for the first time that morning, hid a smile. "She has a point there, Chubb," he put in, and the cook turned to him in agreement. "Shape is important, sir. All great cooks tend to be...rounded."**

"The man does not lack for humility." Crowley observed, utterly deadpan. Jenny scowled at him, but the effect was ruined by her blinding grin.

**He turned back to the girl, still considering. It was all very well for the others to accept their trainees in the wink of an eye, he though. But cooking was something special.**

**"Tell me," he said to the eager girl, "what would you do with a turkey pie?"**

"Eat it." Horace said immediately.

**Jenny smiled dazzlingly at him. "Eat it," she answered immediately.**

Crowley snorted. "Sure you didn't marry the wrong girl?" He asked Horace, who reddened. Cassandra raised her eyebrows.

**Chubb rapped her on the head with the ladle he carried."I meant what would you do about cooking it?" he asked. Jenny hesitated, gathered her thoughts, then plunged into a lengthy technical description of how she would go about constructing such a masterpiece. The other four wards, the Baron, his Craftmasters and Martin listened in some awe, with absolutely no comprehension of what she was saying. Chubb, however, nodded several times as she spoke, interrupting as she detailed the rolling of the pastry. "Nine times,you say?" he said curiously and Jenny nodded, sure of her ground.**

"A deviation from the norm. That would get his attention." Baron Arald mused thoughtfully, nodding appreciatively at Jenny.

**"My mother always said: 'Eight times to make it flaky and once more for love,'" she said. Chubb nodded thoughtfully."Interesting. Interesting," he said,then,looking up at the Baron, he nodded."I'll take her, my lord."**

"What a surprise." King Duncan said dryly.

**"What a surprise," the Baron said mildly, then added, "Very well,report to the kitchens in the morning, Jennifer."**

"Jenny." Alyss, Will, Jenny and Horace all corrected simultaneously.

**"Jenny, sir," the girl corrected him again, her smile lighting up the room.**

**Baron Arald smiled. He glanced at the small group before him. "And that leaves us with one more candidate." He glanced at his list, then looked up to meet Will's agonized gaze, gesturing encouragement.**

**Will stepped forward, nervousness suddenly drying his throat so that his voice came out in barely a whisper.**

**"Will, sir. My name is Will."  
**

"Dun, dun, duuuuuun." Will ended sarcastically, ruining the tension as the room erupted in laughter.


	5. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halt reads Chapter Four of Ruins of Gorlan. Uncontrollable Laughter ensues.
> 
> Rabbits.

"Who's reading next?" King Duncan asked, looking around. Halt muttered something underneath his breath and raised his voice up to normal conversation volume.

"I'll read, your majesty." Halt offered. Duncan smiled at him and slid the book down the table. Halt spun the book towards himself and started reading.

 **"Will? Will who?"** Once again, the world broke out laughing at Halt's impression of Martin. **Martin asked in exasperation, flicking through the sheets of paper with the candidates' details written on them. He had only been the Baron's secretary for five years and so knew nothing of Will's history. He realized now that there was no family name on the boy's papers and, assuming he had let this mistake slip past, he was annoyed with himself.**

Baron Arald shook his head. "He would be." He said, slightly ruefully.

**"What's your family name, boy?" he asked severely. Will looked at him, hesitating, hating this moment.**

"Nice impression of me, Halt." Will deadpanned. Lady Pauline allowed a small smile to curve her mouth and Horace tried to stifle a laugh.

**"I...don't have...," he began, but mercifully the Baron interceded.**

"Thank you." Will said, nodding at Arald, who grinned.

**"Will is a special case, Martin," he said quietly, his look telling the secretary to let the matter go. He turned back to Will, smiling encouragement.**

**"What school did you wish to apply for, Will?" he asked.**

**"Battleschool, please, my lord," Will replied, trying to sound confident in his choice.**

"Which I was not." Will said promptly, and the table laughed aloud. Halt raised an eyebrow.

"Are you finished interrupting?" He asked.

"Please, go ahead." Will said, mock-graciously, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thank you." Halt said sarcastically and went back to reading.

**The Baron allowed a frown to crease his forehead and Will felt his hopes sinking.**

**"Battleschool, Will? You don't think you're...a little on the small side?" the Baron asked gently.**

"Yes." Alyss, Horace, and Will all chorused immediately. Gilan had to stifle a snort.

**Will bit his lip. He head all but convinced himself that if he wanted this badly enough, if he believed in himself strongly enough, he would be accepted - in spite of his obvious shortcomings.**

**"I haven't got my growing spurt yet, sir," he said desperately. "Everybody says that."**

"Oh they do, do they?" Halt said dryly, eying Will. "You still haven't 'got your growing spurt' as you put it."

"Halt..." Lady Pauline began warningly, and Halt hastily kept reading.

**The Baron rubbed his bearded chin with thumb and forefinger as he considered the boy before him. He glanced to his Battlemaster.**

**"Rodney?" he said.**

**The tall knight stepped forward, studied Will for a moment or two, then slowly shook his head.**

Will, who seemed to be carrying the sarcasm for at least the initial chapters, took up The Mantle of Snark once again. "The world is ending." He deadpanned. Cue laughter.

**"I'm afraid he's too small, my lord," he said. Will felt a cold hand clutch at his heart.**

Will imitated the action now, seizing his chest and puffing out his cheeks and bugging out his eyes dramatically. Horace grinned, and Gilan snorted in laughter. King Duncan was struggling to keep a straight face, while Cassandra and Jenny had both dissolved into laughter.

**"I'm stronger than I look, sir," he said. But the Battlemaster was unswayed by his plea.**

"You would be, you coldhearted bastard." Baron Arald joked, elbowing Rodney teasingly. Rodney allowed his jaw to drop open in shock. "Coldhearted? Me? I'm insulted, sir!"

**He glanced at the Baron, obviously not enjoying the situation, and shook his head.**

**"Any second choice, Will?" the Baron asked. His voice was gentle, even concerned.**

**Will hesitated for a long moment. He had never considered any other selection.**

**"Horseschool, sir?" he asked finally.**

Halt nodded. "You'd've done well there, I should think." He said thoughtfully. Will smiled gratefully. It was good to know he hadn't been completely out of his depth.

**Horseschool trained and cared for the mighty battlehorses that the castle's knights rode. It was at least a link to Battleschool, Will thought. But Ulf, the Horsemaster, was shaking his head already, even before the Baron had asked his opinion.**

**"I need apprentices, my lord," he said, "but this one's too small. He'd never control one of my battlehorses. They'd stomp him into the ground as soon as look at him."**

"Done well as long as I survived the first year or so." Will retorted. Halt shrugged in acknowledgement of the point and kept reading.

**Will could only see the Baron through a watery blur now. He fought desperately to keep the tears from sliding down his cheeks. That would be the ultimate humiliation: to be rejected from Battleschool and then to break down and cry like a baby in front of the Baron, all the Craftmasters, and his wardmates.**

**"What skills do you have, Will?" the Baron was asking him.**

"Climbing." Baron Arald said promptly. King Duncan laughed.

**Will racked his brain. He wasn't good at lessons and languages, as Alyss was. He couldn't form neat, perfect letter, the way George did. Nor did he have Jenny's interest in cooking.**

**And he certainly didn't have Horace's muscles and strength.**

**"I'm a good climber, sir," he said finally, seeing that the Baron was waiting for him to say something.**

"People tend to do that after they've asked you a question, yes." Gilan put in dryly, and the gathered people laughed loudly.

**It was a mistake, he realized instantly. Chubb, the cook, glared at him angrily.**

"Will, what did you do?" Jenny groaned, looked at her friend in exasperation. Will held up his hands, palms up in surrender.

**"He can climb, all right. I remember when he climbed up a drainpipe into my kitchen and stole a tray of sweetcakes that were cooling on the windowsill."**

"It was a small tray!" Will protested, but he was laughing - along with everyone else.

**Will's jaw dropped with the unfairness of it all. That had been two years ago! He was a child then and it was a mere childish prank, he wanted to say. But now the Scribemaster was talking too.**

Lady Pauline's mouth was twitching ever so slightly as she attempted to control her laughter.

**"And just this last spring he climbed up to our third-floor study and turned two rabbits loose during one of our legal debates. Most disruptive. Absolutely!"  
**

"Oh dear Lord." King Duncan muttered, shaking his head, but he was shaking with suppressed laughter.

**"Rabbits, you say, Scribemaster?" said the Baron, and Nigel nodded emphatically.**

**"A male and a female rabbit, my lord, if you take my meaning?" he replied. "Most disruptive indeed!"**

Sir Rodney roared with laughter. King Duncan was laughing as well, though not quite so loudly, and Baron Arald was grinning hugely, shaking his head, as Crowley, Gilan, Jenny, and Cassandra all dissolved into helpless mirth. Will and Alyss were also grinning, and Will was trying to defend himself, but the effect was ruining by the fact that he kept dissolving into laughter.

"Rabbits." Lady Pauline repeated, raising an elegant eyebrow at Will, who tried to reply, only to have any words he might attempt to formulate lost to laughter.

 **Unseen by Will, the very serious** \- here Halt had to stop and get himself back under control - **Lady Pauline put one elegant hand in front of her mouth. She might have been concealing a yawn.**

"I'm sure." Horace managed, setting off another round of helpless laughter.

**But when she removed the hand, the corners of her mouth were slightly uptilted still.**

**"Well, yes," said the Baron. "We all know how rabbits are."**

Jenny, who had just managed to get control of herself again, burst out laughing again, setting off everyone else. Again.

**"And, as I said, my lord, it was _spring,"_ Nigel went on, in case the Baron had missed the point.**

"God, we get it Nigel." Cassandra managed, still giggling.

**Lady Pauline gave vent to an unladylike cough.**

Halt looked at his wife in surprise.

**The Baron looked in her direction, in some surprise.**

Sir Rodney snorted explosively, not missing the connection between Halt's action and the words he'd just read. Halt glared at him in annoyance.

**"I think we get the picture, Scribemaster," he said, then returned his gaze to the desperate figure in front of him.**

Will mimed wide pleading eyes and clasped his hands together in front of him in a playful mockery of desperation.

**Will kept his chin up and stared straight ahead. The Baron felt for the young lad in that moment.**

"Only then?" Will asked, straight-faced. Alyss rolled her eyes. Baron Arald grinned easily but didn't reply.

**He could see the tears welling up in those lively brown eyes, held back only by an infinite determination. _Willpower_ , he thought abstractedly, recognizing the play on the boy's name.**

Halt spared a moment to nod at Will, who grinned and flushed with pride.

**He didn't enjoy putting the boy through all this, but it had to be done. He sighed inwardly.**

**"Is there any one of you who could use this boy?" he said.**

Cassandra spared a moment to glare at Baron Arald, who had the grace to look mildly ashamed of his choice of wording. Will rolled his eyes inwardly.

**Despite himself, Will allowed his head to turn and gaze pleadingly at the line of Craftmasters, praying that one of them would relent and accept him. One by one, silently, they shook their heads.**

**Surprisingly, it was the Ranger** \- "Oh, 'the Ranger' am I?" Halt groused - **who broke the awful silence in the room.**

**"There is something you should know about this boy, my lord," he said. Will had never heard Halt speak before. His voice was deep and soft-spoken, with the slightest burr of a Hibernian accent still noticeable.**

Horace and Will glanced significantly at each other. Alyss and Cassandra caught the silent exchange but didn't know what it signified.

**He stepped forward now and handed the Baron a sheet of paper, folded double. Arald unfolded it, studied the words written there and frowned.**

**"You're sure of this, Halt?" he said.**

**"Indeed, my lord."**

"You see? 'My lord'. You _used_ to be at lease somewhat polite." Baron Arald said accusingly.

**The Baron carefully refolded the paper and placed it on his desk. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the desktop, then said:**

**"I'll have to think on this overnight."**

**Halt nodded and stepped back, seeming to fade into the background as he did so.**

Halt looked up. "We Rangers have been known to do that." He said to Will, who sputtered theatrically.

 **Will stared anxiously at him, wondering what information the mysterious figure** \- Crowley barely managed to hide his laughter in an undignified snort - **had passed on to the Baron. Like most people, Will had grown up believing that Rangers were people who were best avoided. They were a secretive, arcane group** \- Crowley snorted again, earning a scowl from Will - **shrouded in mystery and uncertainty, and that uncertainty led to fear.  
**

Gilan sighed quietly through his nose. On the one hand, such a reputation could be useful - especially to people like Halt, who seemed to rely on fear and intimidation as much as shooting and concealment - but on the other, the commonfolk were a little less willing to approach a Ranger if they thought something was amiss.

**Will didn't like the thought that Halt knew something about him - something that he felt was important enough to bring to the Baron's attention today, of all days.**

"Yes, excellent timing, Halt." King Duncan spoke up for the first time in a while, startling an eyebrow raise out of Halt.

**The sheet of paper lay there, tantalizingly close, yet impossibly far away.**

**He realized that there was movement about him** \- "Very astute of you," Crowley deadpanned, before cracking up - **and the Baron was speaking to the other people in the room.**

**"Congratulations to those who were selected here today. It's a big day for all of you, so you're free to have the rest of the day off and enjoy yourselves."**

"Yay." Will said without enthusiasm.

**"The kitchens will provide a banquet for you in your quarters and for the rest of the day you have free run of the castle and the village. Tomorrow, you'll report to your new Craftmasters first thing in the morning. And if you'll take a tip from me, you'll make sure you're on time."**

"Best advice I've ever gotten." Horace said with feeling, recalling the unfortunate fates that awaited tardy Battleschool recruits.

**He addressed the other four, then addressed Will, with a hint of sympathy in his voice.**

**"Will, I'll let you know tomorrow what I've decided about you." He turned to Martin and gestured for him to show the new apprentices out. "Thank you everyone," he said, and left the room through the door behind his desk.**

**The Craftmasters followed his lead, then Martin ushered the former wards to the door. They chatted together excitedly, relieved and delighted that they had been selected by the Craftmasters of their choice.**

"Insensitive wretches." Will grumbled, but he was - of course - grinning.

**Will hung back behind the others, hesitating as he passed the desk where that sheet of paper still lay. He stared at it for a moment, as if somehow he could see through to the words written on the reverse side. Then he felt that same sensation that he had felt earlier, that someone was watching him. He looked up and found himself staring into the dark eyes of the Ranger, who remained behind the Baron's high-backed chair, almost invisible in that strange cloak of his.**

"Oh no, he's going to kill you!" Gilan gasped in mock horror.

**Will shuddered in a sudden frisson of fear and hurried out of the room.**

"Unless I have a heart attack first." Will added, still grinning.


	6. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Pauline reads Chapter Five of Ruins of Gorlan. Giggling ensues.

Halt passed the book to his wife, who began to read in a clear, carrying voice that brought the chatter over the previous chatter to an abrupt halt.

**It was long after midnight. The flickering torches around the castle yard, already replaced once, had begun to burn low again.**

Gilan and Crowley both grinned, guessing where this was going. Halt's face was a study in impassivity, and Baron Arald had a mischievous light in his face.

**Will had watched patiently for hours, waiting for this moment - when the light was uncertain and the guards were yawning, in the last hour of their shift.**

Baron Arald started to frown, then remembered that all guards would do that, and resolved to let it go.

**The day had been one of the worst he could remember. While his yearmates celebrated, enjoying their feast and then spending their time in lighthearted horseplay through the castle and the village, Will had slipped away to the silence of the forest, a kilometer or so from the castle walls.**

"So you were always a forest nut. I wondered." Cassandra teased, her smile blinding. Will grinned back, and Alyss raised an eyebrow. Cassandra rolled her eyes, and the two women shared a quiet smile before Lady Pauline started reading again.

**There, in dim green coolness beneath the trees, he had spent the afternoon reflecting bitterly on the events of the Choosing, nursing the deep pain of disappointment and wondering what the Ranger's paper said.**

Gilan and Crowley's grins broadened.

**As the long day wore on, and the shadows began to lengthen in the open fields beside the forest, he came to a decision.**

**He had to know what was on the paper. And he had to know tonight.**

"You broke into - of course you did." Jenny shook her head, the picture of disapproval - except for the broad grin on her face. Cassandra was nearly falling out of her chair with laughter, and Horace was grinning hugely.

**Once night fell, he made his way back to the castle avoiding villagers and castle folk alike, and secreted himself in the branches of the fig tree again.**

"You did like that fig tree." Alyss remarked. Will had no regrets.

 **On the way, he slipped unnoticed into the kitchens** \- Will surreptitiously moved his chair away from Jenny - **and helped himself to bread, cheese, and apples.**

Jenny reached over to whack Will with her wooden ladle, but Will was out of reach and she only smacked the arm of his chair instead.

 **He munched moodily on these, barely tasting them** \- Jenny tried to hit him again, but Will was leaning as far away from her as he could - **as the evening passed and the cattle began to settle down for the night.**

Will glared around at the guffawing others. "I'm glad you're all enjoying this." He said grumpily, yelping in pain when Jenny got a little extra reach and laid a good smack across his knuckles.

**He observed the movements of the guards, getting a feeling for their timing as they went on their regular rounds. In addition to the guard troop, there was a sergeant on duty at the doorway of the tower that led to Baron Arald's quarters. But he was overweight and sleepy, and there was little chance that he would pose a risk to Will.**

"Got a rather high opinion of ourselves, don't we?" Halt's dry tones cut across Lady Pauline's reading. Will grimaced back at his mentor. "Believe me, I'm regretting _everything_ right n-OW!" He yelped as Jenny's spoon made contact again.

**After all, he had no intention of using the door or the stairway.**

"Naturally." Crowley deadpanned.

"Would be far to convenient." King Duncan added.

 **Over the years, his insatiable curiosity, and a penchant or going places where he wasn't supposed to** \- Baron Arald shot Will, who had finally managed to escape the terror of Jenny's spoon, a look - **had developed within him the skill of moving across seemingly open space without being seen.**

Gilan unconsciously leaned forward, eager to see how this played out.

**As the wind stirred the upper branches of the trees, they created moving patterns in the moonlight - patterns that Will now used to great effect. He instinctively matched his movement to the rhythm of the trees, blending easily into the pattern of the yard, becoming part of it and so being concealed by it.**

Will looked surprised. "I always thought I learned that from Ranger training."

"You certainly got better at it." Halt agreed, "But you did have some natural skill to begin with."

"You're too sparing with your praise, Halt." Gilan said, grinning.

"It worked with you." Halt retorted.

"Not really." Gilan countered.

"Boys..." Lady Pauline started warningly, and both Rangers shut up instantly.

**In a way, the lack of obvious cover made his task a little easier. The fat sergeant didn't expect anyone to be moving across the open space of the yard. So, not expecting to see anyone, he failed to do so.**

"Thought I picked that up from Ranger training too." Will mumbled.

**Breathless, Will flattened himself against the rough stone of the tower wall. The sergeant was barely five meters away and Will could hear his heavy breathing, but a small buttress in the wall hid him from the man's sight.**

Baron Arald made a mental note to do something about that.

 **He studied the wall in front of him, craning back to look up. The Baron's office window was a long way up** \- _understatement_ , Sir Rodney, Baron Arald, Lady Pauline, Halt and Will all thought simultaneously - **and farther around the tower. To each it, he would have to climb up, then work his way across the face of the wall, to a spot beyond the point where the sergeant stood guard, then up again to the window. He licked his lips nervously.**

"I was absolutely _terrified_ I was going to slip, fall, and get caught." Will said, grinning.

"Not slipping, falling, and dying?" Horace asked. Will shook his head.

"Didn't even cross my mind. I think I may have been in denial." He joked.

**Unlike the smooth inner walls of the tower, the huge blocks of stone that comprised the tower's outer wall of the tower had large gaps between them. Climbing would be no problem.**

Baron Arald added another item to his list.

 **He'd have plenty of foot- and handholds all the way up. In some places, the stone would have been worn smooth by the weather over the years, he knew, and he'd have to go carefully. But he'd climbed all the other three towers at some time in the past** \- Cassandra smothered a giggle at the exasperation on Baron Arald's face - **and he expected no real difficulty with this one.**

**But this time, if he were seen, he wouldn't be able to pass it off as a prank.**

"Did that ever work?" Crowley asked suspiciously.

"...not really." Will admitted sheepishly. The table found this hilarious.

**He would be climbing in the middle of the night to a part of the castle where he had no right to be. After all, the Baron didn't post guards on this tower for the fun of it.**

"How did you guess." Arald deadpanned.

**People were supposed to stay away unless they had business here.**

**He rubbed his hands together nervously. What could they do to him? He had already been passed over in the Choosing.**

"Fate worse than death." Will snarked. Halt seemed to find this hilarious.

**Nobody wanted him.**

Dead silence. Will shifted uncomfortably, face bright red. Baron Arald looked mildly embarrassed.

_Ouch._

**He was condemned to a life in the fields already. What could be worse than that?**

"Life in prison?" Sir Rodney offered. Will grimaced.

"Nobody ever said I thought this all the way through."

**But there was a nagging doubt at the back of his mind: He wasn't absolutely sure that he was condemned to that life. A faint spark of hope still remained. Perhaps the Baron would relent. Perhaps, if Will pleaded with him in the morning, and explained about his father and how important it was for him to be accepted into Battleschool, there was a very faint chance that his wish would be granted.  
**

Will groaned. Horace was still grinning.

**And then, once he was accepted, he could show how his eagerness and dedication would make him a worthy student, until his growing spurt happened.**

Horace and Sir Rodney were shaking their heads and grinning. "More fool you." The older knight joked. Will shrugged good-naturedly.

 **On the other hand, if he were caught in the next few minutes, not even that small chance would remain to him. He had no idea what they would do to him if he were caught** \- "Clap you in irons and throw you in the dungeons, most likely" King Duncan said thoughtfully - **but he could be reasonably sure that it wouldn't involve being accepted into Battleschool.**

Will and Baron Arald, who knew what was coming next, we're having difficult keeping straight faces. Halt was being inscrutable, as usual.

**He hesitated, needing some slight extra push to get him going. It was the fat sergeant who provided it. Will heard the heavy intake of breath, the shuffling of the man's studded boots against the flagstones as he gathered his equipment together, and he realized that the sergeant was about to make one of his irregular circuits of his beat.**

"Oh, no, death is near." Crowley snarked dramatically. Halt looked at him, unimpressed.

**Usually, this entailed going a few meters around the tower to either side of the doorway, then returning to his original position. It was more for the purpose of staying awake than anything else, but Will realized that it would bring them face-to-face in the next few seconds if he didn't so something.**

"I take it you do something?" Jenny asked, but she was smiling widely and her eyes were bright with excitement. _Whoever wrote this knows how to tell a story,_ Will reflected.

**Quickly, easily, he began to swarm up the wall. He made the first five meters in a matter of second, spread out against the rough stone like a giant, four-legged spider.**

"An apt description." Halt deadpanned. Baron Arald groused good-naturedly. Will grinned unrepentantly.

**Then, hearing the heavy footsteps directly below him, he froze, clinging to the wall in case some slight nose might alert the enemy.**

**In fact, it seemed that the sergeant had heard something. He paused directly below the point where Will clung, peering into the night, trying to see past the dappled, moving shadows cast by the moon and the swaying trees. But, as Will had thought the night before, people seldom look up.**

Baron Arald made yet another mental note.

**The sergeant, eventually satisfied that he had heard nothing significant, continued to march slowly around the tower.**

**That was the chance Will needed. It also gave him the opportunity to move across the tower face so that he was directly below the window he wanted. Hands and feet finding purchase easily, he moved almost as fast as a man could walk, all the time going higher and higher up the tower wall.**

"Don't look down." Cassandra advised.

 **At one point, he looked down** \- "What did I _just_ finish saying?" Cassandra demanded, but both she and Will were laughing - **and that was a mistake. Despite his good head for heights, his vision swam slightly as he saw how far he had come, and how far below him the hard flagstones of the castle yard were. The sergeant was coming back into view - a tiny figure when seen from this height.**

"There is a reason people don't generally look down from great heights." Halt pointed out dryly.

"And there's a reason you don't sail more often than you have to." Will countered automatically. Halt snorted but had the sense to retreat from the conversation with what remained of his dignity.

**Will blinked the moment of vertigo away and continued to climb, perhaps a little more slowly and with a little more care than before.**

"Falling would have hurt." Will acknowledged mildly.

**There was a heart-stopping moment when, stretching his right foot to a new foothold, his left boot slipped on the weather-rounded edge of the massive building blocks, and he was left clinging by his hands alone as he desperately scrabbled for a foothold.**

Alyss inhaled sharply, glancing at Will in worry.

**Then he recovered and kept moving.**

Alyss breathed a sigh of relief. Will smiled at her and squeezed her hand. Alyss rolled her eyes and shook her head. Will shot Gilan a _what-did-I-do_ look. Gilan found that amusing.

**He felt a surge of relief as his hands finally closed over the stone window ledge and he heaved himself up and into the room, swinging his legs over the sill and dropping lightly inside.**

**The Baron's office was deserted, of course.**

Halt and Will snorted in unison.

**The three-quarter moon streamed light in through the big window.**

**And there, on the desk where the Baron had left it, was the single sheet of paper that held the answer to Will's future. Nervously, he glanced around the room. The Baron's huge, high-backed chair stood like a sentry behind the desk. The few other pieces of furniture loomed dark and motionless. On one wall, a portrait of one of the Baron's ancestors glared down at him, accusingly.**

"Blaming you for climbing his wall, no doubt." Gilan said airily, grinning.

**He shook off these fanciful thoughts and crossed quickly to the desk, his soft boots making no noise on the bare boards of the floor. The sheet of paper, bright white with the reflected moonlight, was within reach. Just look at it, read it and go, he told himself. That was all he had to do.**

Crowley seemed to find this all very funny, as did Baron Arald. Will glared balefully at the both of them in a manner that was highly reminiscent of Halt

**He stretched out a hand for it.  
**

**His fingers touched it.**

**And a hand shot out of nowhere and seized him by the wrist!  
**

"Hello, Halt." Gilan said cheerfully. "Was wondering when you'd turn up."

**Will shouted aloud in fright. His heart leaped into his mouth and he found himself looking up into the cold eyes of Halt the Ranger.**

Halt raised one eyebrow. He hadn't been completely aware of just how terrified the boy had been - or perhaps he had been, and had forgotten. Either one was a rather worrying prospect.

**Where had he come from? Will had been sure there had been nobody else in the room. And there had been no sound of a door opening. Then he remembered how the Ranger could wrap himself in the strange, mottled, gray-green cloack of his and seem to melt into the background, blending in with the shadows until he was invisible.**

"It is a rather Ranger-esque ability." Jenny offered.

**Not that it mattered how Halt had done it. The real problem was that he had caught Will, here in the Baron's office. And that meant the end to all Will's hopes.**

"Is it really that bad?" Crowley asked, pretending to pout.

Will laughed and shook his head. "No, no it's not."

**"Thought you might try something like this," said the Ranger in a low voice.**

**Will, his heart pounding from the shock of the last few moments, said nothing.**

"Smart." Gilan said, nodding. "He might have thrown you off the tower if you had."

Will threw his friend a scathing look, but Gilan was smart enough to read the laughter behind it.

**He hung his head in shame and despair.**

**"Do you have anything to say?" Halt asked him, and Will shook his head, unwilling to look up and meet that dark, penetrating gaze. Halt's next words confirmed Will's worst fears.**

**"Well, let's see what the Baron thinks about this," he said.**

**"Please, Halt! Not..." Then Will stopped. There was no excuse for what he had done and the least he could do was face his punishment like a man. Like a warrior. Like his father, he thought.**

Halt met Will's eyes, and nodded once. Will sat a little straighter after that.

**The Ranger studied him for a moment. Will thought he saw a brief flicker of...recognition? Then the eyes darkened once more.**

**"What?" Halt said curtly. Will shook his head.**

**"Nothing."**

"Smart." Gilan said again.

**The Ranger's grip was like iron around his wrist as he led Will out the door and onto the wide, curving staircase that led up to the Baron's living quarters. The sentries at the head of the stairs looked up in surprise at the grim-faced Ranger and the boy beside him. At a brief signal from Halt, they stood aside and opened the doors into the Baron's apartment.**

"Dun, dun, dun." That was Will, lightening the mood as was his civic duty.

**The room was brightly lit, and, for a moment, Will looked around in confusion. He was sure he had seen the lights go out on his floor while he waited and watched in the tree. Then he saw the heavy drapes across the window and understood. In contrast to the Baron's sparsely furnished working quarters below, this room was a comfortable clutter of settees, footstools, carpets, tapestries and armchairs. In one of these, Baron Arald sat, reading through a pile of reports.**

"Paperwork." Baron Arald grumbled. "Bane of my existence, that."

King Duncan gave him a look that conveyed his utter lack of sympathy - _try running a kingdom some time indeed_ \- but Crowley shared Arald's pain.

**He looked up from the page he was holding as Halt entered with his captive.**

"That makes it sound so much more dramatic than it actually was." Halt complained.

Will was flabbergasted. _"More dramatic?_ I was terrified, Halt!"

**"So you were right," said the Baron, and Halt nodded.**

**"Just as I said, my lord. Came across the castle yard like a shadow. Dodged the sentry as if he wasn't there and came up the tower wall like a spider."**

Cue confusion amongst non-Rangers and non-Baron Aralds.

**The Baron set the report down on a side table and leaned forward.**

**"He climbed the tower, you say?" he asked, a trifle incredulously.**

**"No rope. No ladder, my lord. Climbed it as easily as you get in your horse in the morning. Easier, in fact." Halt said, with just the ghost of a smile.**

Cue outbreaks of mirth from literally everyone except Baron Arald - and, of course, the ever-stoic Halt.

 **The Baron frowned. He was a little** \- Will had to stifle another laugh - **overweight and sometimes he needed help getting on his horse after a late night. He obviously wasn't amused by Halt's reminding him of that fact.**

"You _would_ make the authority figure in charge annoyed just before giving him Will to sentence, wouldn't you Halt?" King Duncan said with no small amount of exasperation, but the smile curling his mouth gave lie to his annoyance.

**"Well not," he said, looking sternly at Will, "this is a serious matter."**

Will had to stifle more laughter. So did Baron Arald. It rather ruined the serious atmosphere the book was trying to convey.

**Will said nothing. He wasn't sure if he should agree or disagree. Either course had its dangers. But he wished Halt hadn't put the Baron in a bad mood by referring to his weight. It certainly wouldn't make things any better for him.**

Sir Rodney was smiling now, and Lady Pauline had a definite gleam in her eyes as she read on. They all knew how this turned out in the end.

**"So what shall we do with you, young Will?" the Baron continued.**

"Terrify me, I suppose." Will snarked in response. Horace smothered a laugh.

**He rose from his chair and began to pace. Will looked up at him, trying to gauge his mood.**

"I gauge thy mood to be...trying to scare me half to death before the big reveal. And succeeding." Will added with a grin. Baron Arald found this highly amusing.

**The strong, bearded face told him nothing. The Baron stopped his pacing and fingered his beard thoughtfully.**

**"Tell me, young Will," he said, facing away from the miserable boy** \- "Oh thanks," Will put in sarcastically - **"what would you do in my place? What would you do with a boy who broke into your office in the middle of the night and tried to steal an important document?"**

"Let him go and forget this ever happened?" Jenny suggested hopefully, wearing a grin that suggested she knew _exactly_ what happened. Will had to excuse himself from the room until he could control himself again.

**"I wasn't stealing, my lord!" The denial burst from Will before he could contain it.**

"Oh, dear, we are in trouble..." Gilan drawled, before cracking up at the look of exasperation on Will's face.

**The Baron turned to him, one eyebrow raise in apparent disbelief. Will continued weakly, "I just...wanted to see it, that's all."**

**"Perhaps so," said the Baron, that eyebrow still raised.**

"Redmont trademark." King Duncan muttered.

**"But you haven't answered my question. What would you do in my place?"**

**Will hung his head again. He could plead.**

"Don't do that." Gilan advised immediately.

**He could apologize.**

"Actually not a bad idea." Gilan acknowledged.

**He could ask for mercy.**

_"Definitely_ don't do that." Gilan said urgently.

**He could try to explain.**

"Don't do that either." Gilan added.

"Are you done?" Will asked irritably. Alyss was smiling.

**But then he squared his shoulders and came to a decision. He had known the consequences of being caught. And he had chosen to take the risk. He had no right now to plead for forgiveness.**

King Duncan studied Will through thoughtfully narrowed eyes. Even if Will hadn't been a Ranger, he would have been a remarkable young man - one to be remembered, no matter what he did with his life.

**"My lord...," he said, hesitantly, knowing that this was a decisive moment in his life. The Baron regarded him, still half turned from the window.**

**"Yes?" he said, and Will somehow found the resolve to go on.**

**"My lord, I don't know what I'd do in your place. I do know there is no excuse for my actions and I will accept whatever punishment you decide."**

King Duncan broke out in a proud smile. Something gleamed in Halt's eyes, and Crowley grinned. Alyss smiled slightly and squeezed Will's hand.

**As he spoke, he raised hi face to look the Baron in the eye. And in doing so, he caught the Baron's quick glance to Halt.**

"Uh-oh." Horace muttered.

**There was something in that glance, he saw.**

"There usually is." Halt drawled sarcastically. But secretly, he was very proud of Will for picking up on the glance.

**Strangely, it was almost a look of approval, or agreement. Then it was gone.**

_Never mind interpreting it so well,_ Halt added mentally.

**"Any suggestions Halt?" the Baron asked, in a carefully neutral tone.**

"Might as well scream 'something big is about to happen!'" Cassandra mused, but she was leaning forward, eager to hear what happened next.

**Will looked at the Ranger now. His face was stern, as it always was. The grizzled gray beard and short hair made him seem even more disapproving, more ominous.**

"Well done, Halt." Crowley said cheerfully, slapping his friend on the shoulder. Halt glared at him. Crowley was unfazed - he had been glared at by Halt often.

**"Perhaps we should show him the paper he was so keen to see, my lord," he said, producing the single sheet from inside his sleeve.**

**The Baron allowed a smile to break thought. "Not a bad idea," he said. "I suppose, in a way, it does spell out his punishment, doesn't it?"**

A chorus of angry exclamations from all the Rangers present assaulted the Baron.

**Will glanced from one man to the other. There was something going on here that he didn't understand.**

"Nothing new there." Halt put in. Will merely grinned, taking the ribbing in stride.

**The Baron seemed to think that what he had just said was rather amusing. Halt, on the other hand, wasn't sharing in the fun.**

"When does he ever?" Crowley wondered, earning yet another glare from Halt. Will and Gilan both laughed.

**"If you say so, my lord," he replied evenly. The Baron waved a hand at him impatiently.**

**"Take a joke, Halt! Take a joke!"**

"Yes, my lord." Halt deadpanned in response. The table erupted in laughter and it was several minutes before Lady Pauline could read again.

**"Well, go on and show him the paper."**

_"Ooohhhh..."_ Jenny started dramatically. Gilan laughed. Will raised an eyebrow at him.

**The Ranger crossed the room and handed Will the sheet he had risked so much to see. His hand trembled as he took it. His punishment? But how had the Baron known he would deserve punishment before the actual event?**

"It's not that big of a leap, Will." Baron Arald pointed out. Halt seemed to find this amusing.

**He realized that the Baron was watching him expectantly. Halt, as ever, was an impassive statue. Will unfolded the sheet and read the words Halt had written there.**

_**The boy Will has the potential to be trained as a Ranger.** _

_**I will accept him as my apprentice.** _

"Dun, dun, _duuuuun._ " Will ended, bowing as well as he could from the chair he was sitting in.


	7. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny reads Chapter Six of the Ruins of Gorlan. Lolz ensue.

Lady Pauline handed the book to Jenny at the young woman's cheerful insistence. Will's eyebrow crept higher and higher up his face as he looked at Gilan.

**Will stared at the words on the paper in utter confusion.**

"Well, this is off to a _wonderful_ start..." Crowley snarked dryly. Will tried and failed to smother laughter. Horace didn't even both trying.

**His first reaction was one of relief. He wasn't to be condemned to a lifetime of farmwork. And he wasn't to be punished for his actions in the Baron's study.**

"Don't be too sure of that." Gilan and Crowley said instantly. Halt glared at both of them.

**Then that initial sense of relief gave way to a sudden, nagging doubt. He knew nothing about Rangers** \- "How things change," King Duncan put in wryly - **beyond myth and superstition. He knew nothing about Halt - apart from the fact that the grim, gray-cloaked figure had made him feel nervous whenever he was around.**

"Don't scare the young'uns, Halt." Crowley said, doing his best impression of a crotchety old farmer. Halt glared at him. He got the distinct feeling that this reading was going to leave his dignity in tatters as the rest of the table burst into laughter.

**Now, it seemed, he was being assigned to spend all his time with him. And he wasn't sure he liked the idea at all.**

Will shot an apologetic glance at Halt, who lifted a shoulder as if to say it didn't matter.

**He looked up at the two men. The Baron, he could see, was smiling expectantly. Apparently, he felt that Will should greet his decision as good news.  
**

"This is usually a good idea when dealing with authority figures." Sir Rodney advised. Baron Arald frowned at him, and the knight shrugged apologetically.

**He couldn't see Halt's face clearly. The deep cowl of his cloak left his face in shadow.**

"Which is, of course, the point."Will acknowledged, his grin returning.

**The Baron's smile faded slightly. He appeared a little puzzled by Will's reaction to the news - or rather, his lack of any visible reaction.**

**"Well, what do you say, Will?" he asked, in an encouraging tone. Will drew a deep breath.**

"Never a good sign." Gilan muttered.

**"Thank you, sir...my lord," he said uncertainly. What if the Baron's earlier joke about the note containing his punishment was more serious than he thought? Maybe being assigned to be Halt's apprentice was the worst punishment he could have chosen.**

Halt blinked at that, not liking the direction this was taking. It was Will's turn to shrink a little and look apologetically across the table.

**But the Baron certainly didn't look as if he thought so. He seemed to be very pleased with the idea, and Will knew he wasn't an unkind man. The Baron gave a little sigh of pleasure as he lowered himself into an armchair. He looked up at the Ranger and gestured toward the door.  
**

"I am aware of where the door is located, you know." Halt pointed out. Will was once again stifling laughter, along with most everyone else in the room.

**"Perhaps you might give us a few moments alone, Halt? I'd like to have a word with Will in private," he said. The Ranger bowed gravely.  
**

"You _never_ bow." Gilan said incredulously. "I've _never_ heard of you bowing before. To anyone."

Halt declined to comment. Will stared at him in surprise, as did Baron Arald. He had thought it a little out of character for the grim Ranger...but he hadn't given it much thought.

Huh.

**"Certainly, my lord," he said, the voice coming from deep inside the cowl. He moved, silently as ever, past Will and out through the door that led to the corridor outside. The door closed behind him with barely a sound, and Will shivered. The man was uncanny!**

"Thank you, Will." Halt said, sounding mildly pleased with himself.

**"Sit down, Will." The Baron gestured to one of the low armchairs facing his own. Will sat nervously on the edge of it, as if poised for flight. The Baron noted his body language and sighed.**

**"You don't seem very pleased with my decision," he said, sounding disappointed. The reaction puzzled Will. He wouldn't have thought a powerful figure like the Baron would care one way or another what an insignificant ward would think about his decisions.  
**

"Clearly you didn't know the Baron very well." Sir Rodney put in, but the smile on his face took any sting out of the words. Will merely shrugged his shoulders and grinned back.

"Or he didn't have such a big head." Crowley put in, leading the table into yet more laughter.

**He didn't know how to answer, so he sat in silence, until finally the Baron continued.**

Will still did that now - refuse to answer and lead the other person into talking - but for very different reasons now. And usually, to very different people.

**"Would you prefer to work as a farmhand?" he asked.  
**

"God, no." Will said with feeling. Halt actually laughed aloud at that, drawing amazed looks for all around. Lady Pauline merely smiled.

**He couldn't believe that a lively, energetic boy like this could possibly prefer such a dull, uneventful life, but maybe he was wrong. Will hurriedly reassured him on that score.**

**"No sir!" he said hastily. The Baron made a small questioning gesture with his hands.**

**"Well then, would you prefer that I punished you somehow for what you've done?"  
**

"God no." Will repeated, with the exact same infliction.

**Will started to speak, then realized that his answer might be insulting and stopped. The Baron gestured for him to continue.**

**"It's just that...I'm not sure you haven't, sir."**

Will hunched his shoulders a little, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of shame. Crowley made a large mockery of being offended, but it was Halt that Will was looking to. The grizzled Ranger just nodded once, a slight smile touching the corners of his mouth, and Will relaxed.

**Then, noticing the frown that creased the Baron's forehead as he said the words, he hurried on: "I...I don't know much about Rangers, sir. And people say.."**

**He let the words trail off. It was obvious that the Baron held Halt in some esteem and Will didn't think it was politic for him to point out that ordinary people feared Rangers and thought they were warlocks.**

Gilan smothered laughter. Halt grinned a grin that would not look out of place on a hungry shark, and Crowley seemed to find this all very amusing.

**He saw that the Baron was nodded, and a look of understanding had replaced the perplexed expression he had been wearing.**

**"Of course. People say they're black magicians, don't they?"**

Halt, who had weaponized this fact on more than one occasion, found this very amusing.

**...he agreed and Will nodded, not even realizing he was doing so.**

Gilan sent Will an exasperated look, to which Will responded by shrugged in a 'I-was-fifteen-cut-me-some-slack' sort of way.

**"Tell me, Will, do you find Halt to be a frightening person?"**

**"No, sir!" Will said hastily** \- "Lies!" the entire table chorused - **then, as the Baron held his gaze, he reluctantly added, "Well...maybe a bit."**

"A bit." Halt repeated, lifting an eyebrow in Will's direction.

"Maybe." Will retorted with a grin.

**The Baron leaned back, steepling his fingers together. Now that he understood the reasons for the boy's reluctance, he berated himself for not foreseeing them.**

Sir Rodney glanced at the Baron with a raised eyebrow.

**After all, he had a better knowledge of the Rangers Corps than he could expect of a young boy just turned fifteen** \- Will shot Gilan a 'there you see' look - **who was subject to the usual superstitious mutterings of the castle staff.**

"Thank you, m'lord..." Jenny started dryly. Baron Arald gave her an apologetic smile, but both of their eyes were twinkling.

**"The Rangers are a mysterious group of people," he said. "But there's nothing about them to be frightened of - unless you're an enemy of the kingdom."**

Crowley had a sudden coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like "Morgarath!"

**He could see that the boy was hanging on his every word, and he added, joking, "You're not an enemy of the kingdom, are you, Will?"**

Lady Pauline very deliberately didn't laugh. Neither did Sir Rodney, but he was grinning when Baron Arald wasn't looking.

**"No, sir!" Will said in sudden fright, and the Baron sighed again. He hated it when people didn't realize he was joking. Unfortunately, as overlord of the castle, his words were treated with great seriousness by most people.**

Lady Pauline, Halt, and Baron Arald all avoided making eye contact.

**"All right, all right," he said reassuringly. "I know you're not. But believe me, I thought you'd be glad of this appointment - and adventurous lad like you should take to life as a Ranger like a duck to water."**

"You had no idea." Will said with a grin.

**"It's a big opportunity for you, Will." He paused, studying the boy closely, seeing that he was still uncertain about the whole matter. "Very few boys are chosen to be apprentice Rangers, you know. The opportunity only comes up on rare occasions."  
**

Halt, noticing Will seemed to be getting a little too smug, decided to poke a few holes in his ego. "And then they spend their first year making blasted fools of themselves." He put in acerbically. Will took the point immediately.

**Will nodded. But he still wasn't totally convinced. He thought he owed it to his dream to have one last attempt at Battleschool.**

Horace tried and failed to stifle his laughter. "God, you really were determined, weren't you?" he asked. Will laughed at himself.

"Just a bit." He agreed.

**After all, the Baron did seem to be in an uncommonly good mood this evening, in spite of the fact that Will had broken into his office.**

Baron Arald and Sir Rodney both had a massive coughing fit in an attempt to cover up their laughter. Will regarded them both suspiciously.

**"I wanted to be a warrior, sir," he said tentatively, but the Baron shook his head immediately.**

**"I'm afraid your talents lie in other directions. Halt knew that when he first saw you. That's why he asked for you."**

Will raised an eyebrow in Halt's direction. The older Ranger shrugged. "Or perhaps the tenth or so time. You took your time in becoming useful."

"Thanks, Halt." Will muttered.

**"Oh," said Will. There wasn't much else he could say. He felt he should be reassured by all that the Baron had said and, to a certain degree, he was. But there was still so much uncertainty to it all, he thought.  
**

"Get used to it." Gilan told him, grinning. Will gave him the 'no duh' look.

**"It's just that Halt seems to be so grim all the time," he said.**

Gilan, Horace, and Will, all remembering a conversation they'd had in Arridia, all burst out laughing. Halt glared at them all.

**"He certainly doesn't have my sparkling sense of humor." the Baron agreed, then, as Will looked blankly at him, he muttered something under his breath.**

Baron Arald scowled. That was a good joke, he thought. Why did nobody understand his jokes?

**Will wasn't sure what he'd done to upset him, so he thought it best to change the subject. "But...what does a Ranger actually do, my lord?" he asked.**

"He doesn't ask stupid questions, boy!" Halt and Will chorused, then Will started laughing again.

**One again, the Baron shook his head.**

**"That for Halt to tell you himself. They're a quirky group** \- "Quirky? _Quirky?"_ Crowley demanded, looking incredulous - **and they don't like other people talking about them too much. Now, perhaps you should go back to your quarters and try to get some sleep. You're to report to Halt's cottage at six o'clock in the morning."**

"And thus begins my life of early mornings and late nights." Will intoned solemnly. Horace snorted.

**"Yes, my lord," Will said, rising from his uncomfortable perch on the edge of the chair. He wasn't sure if he was going to enjoy life a Ranger's apprentice** \- "Title drop!" Cassandra put in with a laugh - **but it appeared he had no choice in the matter.**

"You could have been a farmhand." Halt suggested. Will stared at him as thought he'd gone mad.

"That is not a choice." He said firmly.

**He bowed to the Baron, who nodded briefly in return, then he turned away for the door. The Baron's voice stopped him.**

**"Will? This time, use the stairs."**

Will actually found that funny.

"Finally." The Baron said in exasperation.

**"Yes, my lord," he replied seriously, and was a little puzzled by the way the Baron rolled his eyes to the sky nd muttered to himself again. This time, he could make out a few words. It was something about "jokes," he thought.**

Lady Pauline's mouth tightened slightly in the way it might if she was trying to hide her laughter. Alyss hid a smile behind her hand.

**He let himself out through the door. The sentries were still on duty on the landing by the stairs, but Halt was gone.**

**Or at least, he appeared to be. With the Ranger, you could never be quite certain.**

"See, you're learning." Gilan said, with a grin.


	8. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilan reads Chapter Seven of Ruins of Gorlan. Wildflowers ensue.

Jenny passed the book to Gilan. It escaped the notice of nobody that their hands lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary. The raised eyebrows made a stunning return. Gilan pretended not to notice and started reading.

**It felt strange to be leaving the castle after all these years.**

"That'll pass quickly." Sir Rodney put in helpfully. Will glanced at him.

"You know, these events _already happened._ I know how it all ends up." He pointed out in a long-suffering voice.

**Will turned back at the bottom of the hill, his small bundle of belongings slung over his shoulder, and stared up at the massive walls.  
**

"Castle Redmont...Castle Araluen. Castle Redmont...Castle Araluen. Castle Redmont, Castle Araluen." Will said, moving his arms and hands to imitate a scale to indicate the comparison.

**Castle Redmont dominated the landscape.**

"It is a castle, after all." Crowley pointed out mildly.

**Built on top of a small hill, it was a massive, three-sided structure, facing roughly west and with a tower at the each of the three corners. In the center, protected by the three curtain walls, were the castle yard and the Keep, a fourth tower that soared above the others and housed the Baron's official quarters and his private living apartments, along with those of his senior officers. The castle was built in ironstone - a rock that was almost indestructible and, in the low sun of the early morning or late afternoon, seemed to glow with an inner red light. It was this characteristic that gave the castle its name - Redmont, or Red Mountain.  
**

"Do they teach you castle architecture as part of being a Ranger?" Horace asked, a little impressed by the description. Will just shrugged, a little red in the face now.

**At the foot of the hill, and on the other side of the Tarbus River, lay Wensley Village, a cheerfully haphazard cluster of houses, with an inn and those craft shops necessary to meet the demands of day-to-day country life - a cooper, wheelwright, smithy and harness maker. The land around had been cleared for some distance, both to provide farmlands for the villagers to tend to and to prevent enemies from being able to approach unseen.**

_A Ranger idea_ , Baron Arald recalled, remembering Pritchard.

**In times of danger, the villagers wold drive their flocks across the wooden bridge that spanned the Tarbus, removing the center span behind them, and seek shelter behind the massive ironstone walls of the castle, protected by the Baron's soldiers and the knights trained in Redmont's Battleschool.**

Everyone looked at Sir Rodney, Baron Arald, and Horace.

 **Halt's cottage lay some distance away from both castle and village, nestling under the shelter of trees at the edge of the forest. The sun was just rising over the trees as Will made his way to the log cabin. A thin spiral of smoke was rising from the chimney, so Will reasoned that Halt was already up and about. He stepped up onto the verandah that ran the length of one side of the house, hesitated for a moment, then, taking a deep breath** \- "Never a good sign," Gilan said cheerfully. "Shut up Gilan." Will grumbled - **he knocked firmly on the door.**

**"Come in," said a voice from inside. Will opened the door and went into the cottage.**

**It was small but surprisingly neat and comfortable-looking inside. He found himself in the main room, a combined living and dining area, with a small kitchen at one end, separated from the main area by a pine bench. There were comfortable chairs** **ranged** \- "Don't you mean _ar_ ranged, Gilan?" Crowley asked, and Gilan just shrugged as if to say 'that's what it says' and kept reading - **around a fire, a well-scrubbed wooden table and pots and pans that gleamed from much polishing. There was even a vase of brightly colored wildflowers on the mantel shelf -**

Crowley was making strange noises, and his face was bright red.

"Crowley..." Halt started, but Will, out of genuine concern, interrupted him.

"Are you all right, Crowley?" He asked. Crowley's composure - what little of it remained - snapped completely, and he howled with laughter, rocking back in his chair. Will and Gilan stared at him in confusion (as did most everyone else) but Halt was glaring at him formidably.

 _"Wildflowers,_ Halt?" He managed, gasping for breath.

Halt sighed. He had been right, he reflected. He was certainly not getting through this with his dignity intact. He made a mental note to hold a private funeral for it later.

**...and the early morning sun streamed cheerfully through a large window. Two other rooms led off the main room.**

**Halt sat in one of the chairs, his booted feet resting on the table.**

**"At least you're on time," he said gruffly.**

Halt looked meaningfully at Gilan, who flushed and hurriedly continued on.

**"Have you had your breakfast yet?"**

**"Yes, sir," said Will,**

"That's right." Halt said thoughtfully, staring at Will. "You used to call me _sir_. Whatever happened to that?"

Will shrugged and smiled innocently at his old mentor, who rolled his eyes.

 **staring in fascination at the Ranger. This was the first time he had ever seen Halt without his gray-green cloak and hood.** **The Ranger was wearing simple brown and gray woolen clothes and soft-looking leather boots. He was older than Will had realized.**

"Thank you, Will." Halt put in dryly, and Will held up his hands in silent apology.

**His hair and beard were short and dark, but peppered with steel gray flecks. They were both roughly trimmed and Will thought they looked as if Halt had cut them himself with a hunting knife.**

Choked, poorly-concealed laughter all around.

**The Ranger stood up. He was surprisingly small in build. That was something else Will had never realized. He was slim and not at all tall. In fact he was considerably shorter than average height.**

"How many times do you have to repeat the same point?" Halt groused irritably. Gilan and Will exchanged amused looks.

 **But there was a sense of power and whipcord strength about him so that his lack of height** \- Halt grumbled something under his breath that made Lady Pauline give him a sharp look - **and bulk didn't make him any less daunting a figure.**

**"Finished staring?" asked the Ranger suddenly.  
**

"And it begins." Will said grandly, smiling widely. Halt gave him a small nod from his seat, and Horace just grinned.

**Will jumped nervously. "Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!" he said.**

_"Sir."_ Halt reminded Will smugly.

"Graybeard Halt." Will countered.

**Halt grunted.**

"So this no-courtly-manners thing, it's not a new development I take it." Cassandra said, completely deadpan. King Duncan tried not to laugh and failed.

**He pointed to one of the small rooms Will had noticed as he entered.**

**"That'll be your room. You can put your things in there."**

"Generally what one does with one's things when one has a room, after all." Alyss pointed out mildly.

**He moved away to the woodstove in the kitchen area and Will hesitantly entered the room he had indicated. It was small but, like the rest of the cottage, it was also clean and comfortable-looking.**

"You're welcome." Will muttered. Halt ignored him.

 **A small bed lay alongside on wall. There was a wardrobe for clothes and a rough table with a washing basin and a jug on it. There was also, Will noticed, another vase of freshly picked wildflowers** \- Crowley was red-faced and making choking noises again - **adding a bright spot of color to the room.**

King Duncan had to admit that the image of Halt picking wildflowers was a highly amusing one.

**He put his small bundle of clothes and belongings on the bed and went back into the main room.**

**Halt was still busy by the stove, his back to Will. Will coughed apologetically to attract his attention.  
**

"Idiot." Crowley and Gilan chorused together. Will gave them both long-suffering looks.

"Couldn't have told me that _then_ , I suppose." Will quipped. Jenny giggled. Gilan shot both her and Will wounded looks. The rest of the table found this all very amusing.

**Halt continued to stir coffee into a pot on the stove.**

**Will coughed again.**

"Don't say it." Will warned them both, as he saw Gilan and Crowley open their mouths to repeat what they'd just said.

**"Got a cold, boy?" asked the Ranger, without turning around.**

"That's right." Will said witheringly, turning to glare at Halt. "You used to call me _boy."_ Neither the glare nor the words had any sort of malice in them, however, and it was obvious he was only mentioning it in retaliation for the 'sir' comment earlier. Still, it stung Halt a little, though he made certain Will didn't know.

**"Er...no, sir."**

**"Then why are you coughing?" asked Halt, turning around to face him.**

Gilan was having trouble reading without laughing. The result was a kind of choked coughing in between certain words.

"Something stuck in your throat, Gilan?" Will asked waspishly. Alyss elbowed him gently.

**Will hesitated. "Well, sir," he began uncertainly, "I just wanted to ask you...what does a Ranger actually _do?"_**

"Runs around saving the kingdom on a regular basis." King Duncan supplied, with a smile at Will. He felt the young man was getting too much heat from the others, and tried to take some of the sting out of it.

**"He doesn't ask pointless questions, boy!" said Halt.**

Gilan was sniggering again, probably enjoying the fact that Will was the subject of Halt's ire in apprenticeship, just as he ways. Halt turned a baleful glare on him, feeling it had gone on long enough.

"I seem to recall that your questions were a deal more useless than his, Gilan." Gilan shut up, and now Will was grinning instead.

**"He keeps his eyes and ears open and he looks and listens and eventually, if he hasn't got too much cotton wool between his ears, he learns!"**

"I think we need to have a word about your training techniques, Halt." Crowley said, but the slight grin on his face took all the seriousness out of his words.

**"Oh," said Will. "I see." He didn't, and even thought he realized that this was probably no time to ask more questions, he couldn't help himself, repeating, a little rebelliously, "I just wondered what Rangers do, is all."**

"Drumroll please..." Will drawled sarcastically

**Halt caught the tone in his voice and turned to him, a strange gleam in his eye.  
**

"Here it comes." Horace joked.

**"Well then, I suppose I'd better tell you," he said. "What Rangers do, or more correctly, what Rangers' _apprentices_ do, is the housework."**

Gilan and Will exchanged long-suffering looks. It occurred to Halt that his two former apprentices seemed to be on the verge of ganging up on him.

**Will had a sinking feeling as the suspicion struck him that he'd made a tactical error.**

"You would have been doing the housework no matter what you did." Halt said reassuringly.

"Wonderful." Will replied, sounding not at all enthusiastic. Alyss elbowed him again. Will rubbed his ribs and pouted in his wife's direction. Alyss had no sympathy for him.

**"The...housework?" he repeated. Halt nodded, looking distinctly pleased with himself.**

"You would." Horace muttered. Cassandra stifled a laugh.

**"That's right. Take a look around." He paused, gesturing around the interior of the cabin for Will to do as he suggested, then continued, "See any servants?"**

All Rangers present snorted in laughter. Those with significant others (that is, everyone but Crowley) received rebukes about not sounding like their respective horses. Crowley looked superior.

**"No, sir," Will said slowly.**

**"No sir indeed!" Halt said. "Because this isn't a mighty castle with a staff of servants."**

"You don't say." Will deadpanned, carrying the comedy.

**"This is a lowly cabin."**

"With wildflowers." Crowley muttered, before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

**"And it has water to be fetched and firewood to be chopped and floors to be swept and rugs to be beaten. And who do you suppose might do all those things, boy?"**

Will raised a hand with an expression of long-term suffering on his face. Alyss elbowed him. Again. Nobody was surprised.

**Will tried to think of some answer other than the one which now seemed inevitable. Nothing came to mind, so he finally said, in a defeated tone, "Would that be me, sir?"**

"Yes." Crowley and Halt chorused.

**"I believe it would be," the Ranger told him, then rattled off a list of instructions crisply. "Bucket there. Barrel outside the door. Water in the river. Ax in the lean-to, firewood behind the cabin. Broom by the door and I believe you can probably see where the floor might be?"**

Will and Gilan exchanged sympathetic looks. Alyss, however, seemed to be getting an idea.

**"Yes, sir," said Will, beginning to roll up his sleeves. He'd noticed the water barrel as he approached, obviously holding the day's water supply for the cabin. He estimated that it would hold twenty or thirty buckets full. With a sigh, he realized that he was going to have a busy morning.  
**

"And so began all the mornings to come." Will intoned solemnly.

 **As he walked outside, the empty bucket in one hand, he heard the Ranger say contentedly as he poured himself a mug of coffee** \- "You're cold, Halt," Crowley said, shaking his head. "Not even a cup of coffee in the morning before the work begins?" - **and sat down again.**

**"I'd forgotten how much fun having an apprentice can be."**

"So happy to be a source of amusement for you Halt." Will said acidly. Gilan echoed the sentiment a heartbeat later. "Yes, so happy to entertain you."

King Duncan just shook his head. "You're cruel to your apprentices, Halt." He said, the ghost of a smile touching his mouth.

**Will couldn't believe that such a small and seemingly neat cottage could generate so much cleaning and general maintenance.**

"Well, it wouldn't stay neat for long without all that 'general maintenance', as you put it." Halt pointed out with considerable spirit.

**After he had filled the water barrel with fresh river water (thirty-one buckets full), he chopped wood from a stack of logs behind the cabin, piling the firewood into a neat stack. He swept out the cabin, then, after Halt decided that the rug on the living room floor needed beating, he rolled it up, carried it outside and draped it over a rope slung between two trees, beating it savagely so that clouds of dust flew from it.**

"You are _evil._ " Cassandra decided, but she was laughing. Will shot her - and Horace, who was looking altogether to pleased - a look of betrayal.

 **From time to time, Halt leaned out the window to give him encouragement** \- Will supplied air quotes around the word - **which usually consisted of curt comments such as "You've missed a bit on the left side" or "Put some energy into it boy."**

"You sure he didn't have you doing drills? That all sounds a bit familiar..." Horace asked. Sir Rodney mock-glared at him.

**When the rug had been replaced on the floor, Halt decided that several of his pots didn't gleam with sufficient intensity.**

"Guess what happens next." Will muttered.

**"We'll have to give them a bit of a scouring," he said, more or less to himself. Will knew by now that this translated to _"You'll_ have to give them a bit of a scouring." So, without a word, he took the pots to the river's edge and half filled them with water and fine sand, scouring and polishing the metal until it gleamed.**

"See, you're learning." Halt said smugly. Will made a face at him.

 **Halt, meanwhile, had moved to a canvas chair on the verandah** \- "The _verandah?"_ Crowley asked incredulously - **where he sat reading through a tall pile of what looked to be official communications. Passing by once or twice, Will noticed that several of the papers bore crests and coats of arms, while the vast majority were headed with a simple oakleaf design.**

"Well spotted." Halt said seriously, nodding once to Will, who flushed with pleasure.

**When Will returned from the riverbank, he held the pots up for Halt's inspection. The Ranger grimaced at his distorted reflection in the bright copper surface.**

**"Hmmm. Not bad. Can see my own face in it," he** **said** \- "Might not be a good thing," Crowley put in - **then added, without a hint of a smile, "May not be such a good thing."**

Crowley found this unduly (in Halt's opinion) amusing. Gilan hurriedly kept reading.

**Will said nothing. With anyone else he might have suspected it was a joke, but with Halt you simply couldn't tell. Halt studied him for a second or two, then his shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug and he gestured for Will to return the pots to the kitchen. Will was halfway through the door when he heard Halt behind him say:**

"Uh-oh." Horace muttered.

**"Hmmm. That's odd."**

**Thinking the Ranger might be talking to him, Will paused at the door.**

"Here comes the thunderstorm?" Cassandra guessed. Alyss had leaned forward slightly, possibly from the suspense that Gilan was injecting expertly into his reading of this particular chapter.

**"I beg your pardon?" he said suspiciously. Each time Halt had found a new chore for him to attend to, he had seemed to begin the instruction with a statement like "How unusual. The living room rug is full of dust."**

Sir Rodney was holding back laughter. Will shot him a look of betrayal, which naturally only made it worse.

**Or "I do believe the stove is in dire need of a new supply of firewood."**

Gilan and Will exchanged knowing looks of shared suffering. Halt glared at them both.

**It was an affectation that Will had found more than a little annoying over the day, although Halt seemed to be quite fond of it. This time, however, it seemed that he had been genuinely musing to himself as he read through a new report - one of the oakleaf-crested ones, Will noted. Now, the Ranger looked up, a little surprised that Will had addressed him.**

"You'll get over that quickly." Alyss put in helpfully, beaming at Halt. Halt _harrumphed_.

**"What's that?" he said.**

**Will shrugged. "Sorry. When you said 'that's odd', I thought you were talking to me."**

**Halt shook his head several times, still frowning at the report in his hand. "No, no," he said, a trifle distractedly. "I was just reading this..." His voice trailed away and he frowned thoughtfully. Will, his curiosity roused** \- "When is it not?" Halt muttered - **waited expectantly.**

Gilan's dramatic pauses were getting to be a bit much, though Baron Arald.

**"What is it?" he finally ventured to ask. As the Ranger turned those dark eyes on him, he instantly wished he hadn't. Halt regarded him for a second or two.  
**

_Definitely getting to be a bit much._

**"Curious, are you?" he said at length, and when Will nodded uncomfortably, he went on in an unexpectedly milder tone. "Well, I suppose that's a good trait for a Ranger's apprentice. After all, that's why we tested you with that paper in the Baron's office."**

"Of course it was a test." Jenny said in exasperation.

"With Halt, everything is a test." Gilan put in.

**"You tested me?" Will set the heavy copper kettle down by the door. "You _expected_ me to try to see what it said?"**

"No, I expected you to do a backflip out of that tree." Halt said sarcastically.

**Halt nodded. "Would have been disappointed if you hadn't. Also, I wanted to see how you'd go about it." Then he held up a hand to forestall the torrent of questions that were about to tumble out of Will's mouth.**

"An apt description." King Duncan put in.

**"We'll discuss that later," he said, glancing meaningfully at the kettle and the other pots. Will stooped to retrieve them, and turned back to the house once more. But curiosity still burned in him and he turned to the Ranger again.**

**"So what does it say?" he asked, nodding toward the report. Again there was a silence as Halt regarded him, perhaps assessing him. Then he said:**

**"Lord Northolt is dead."**

Baron Arald and Sir Rodney exchanged a glance. They remembered Northolt - and his role in the war - quite well.

**"Apparently killed by a bear last week while out hunting."**

Will frowned and glanced at Crowley, who spoke up. "Isn't Cordom Fief a little far west for bears?"

Gilan nodded thoughtfully. "I would have thought so too."

**"Lord Northolt?" Will asked. The name was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't place it.**

"Former supreme commander of the King's army." Baron Arald and Sir Rodney answered in unison. Duncan's fingers were drumming on the table.

**"Former supreme commander of the King's army," Halt told him, and Will nodded as if he had known this. But, since Halt seemed to be answering his questions, he was emboldened to continue.**

**"What's so odd about it? After all, bears to kill people from time to time."**

"Do they really?" Sir Rodney asked sarcastically, but he seemed a trifle distracted. Baron Arald jogged a discreet elbow into his friend's ribs.

**Halt nodded. "True. But I would have thought Cordom Fief was a little far west for bears. And I would have thought Cordom Fief was a little far west for bears. And I would have thought Northolt was too experienced a hunter to go after one alone." He shrugged, as if dismissing the thought. "But then again, life is full of surprises and people do make mistakes."**

"Bit of a change in attitude, isn't it dear?" Lady Pauline prodded gently. Halt grimaced. "People do make mistakes." He muttered. Horace looked genuinely unsettled at the thought.

**He gestured toward the kitchen again, indicated that the conversation was over. "When you've put those away, you might like to clean out the fireplace," he said.**

"I might." Will muttered.

**Will moved to do as he was told. But a few minutes later, as he walked past one of the windows to the large fireplace that took up most of one wall in the living room, he glanced out to see the Ranger tapping the report thoughtfully on his chin, his thoughts obviously a long way away.**

Halt looked smugly at his wife. "You see?" He said. Lady Pauline raised an elegant eyebrow. "Yes, dear."

Horace broke in. "I'm starving." He announced.

King Duncan laughed. "All right. We'll break for dinner, then read the next chapter."


	9. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horace reads Chapter Eight of the Ruins of Gorlan. Facepalming ensues.

After breaking for dinner - Horace, to nobody's surprise are the vast majority of the food, and endured the subsequent 'Kurokuma' ribbing good-naturedly - the group reassembled around the table, and Horace began to read.

**Sometime late in the afternoon, Halt finally ran out of jobs for Will.  
**

"About bloody time," Will muttered, earning himself a look of mild disapproval from Alyss.

**He looked around the cabin, noting the gleaming kitchen implements, the spotless fireplace, the thoroughly swept floor and the totally dust-free rug. A stack of firewood lay beside the fireplace and another stack, cut and split in shorter lengths, filled the wicker basket beside the kitchen stove.**

**"Hmmm. Not bad," he said**

"Not bad?" Baron Arald broke in incredulously. "You're a hard man, Halt."

**"Not bad at all."**

"Better?" Halt asked sarcastically.

 **Will felt a surge of pleasure at the sparing praise, but before he could feel to pleased with himself** \- "Of course," Will muttered, but he winked covertly at Halt - **Halt added, "Can you cook, boy?"**

"He can now." Alyss replied, smiling at Will. Will flushed red and grinned back. Halt suspected their was a double meaning there somewhere. He decided not to ask.

**"Cook, sir?" Will asked uncertainly. Halt raised his eyes to some unseen superior being.**

**"Why do young people invariably answer a question with another question?" he asked. Then, receiving no reply, he continued, "Yes, cook. Prepare food so that one might eat it. Make meals. I assume you do know what food is - what meals are?"**

Cassandra was stifling giggles.

"I lived in the Ward with Jenny for ten years. I know what food is." Will pointed out, flashing a smile at Jenny. Jenny smiled back. Gilan frowned.

**"Ye-es." Will answered, careful to take any questioning inflection out of the word.**

**"Well, as I told you think morning, this is no grand castle. If we want to eat food here, we have to cook food here." Halt told him.**

Will was obviously refraining from making a sardonic comment. Alyss laughed softly. "Oh, go ahead and say it."

Will shook his head adamantly. Horace hurried to continue reading and spare his friend.

**There was that word _we_ again, Will thought. Every time so far that Halt had said _we must_ , it had seemed to translate to mean _you must_.**

"You're learning." Gilan said dryly.

**"I can't cook." Will admitted, and Halt slipped his hands and rubbed them together.**

**"Of course you can't! Most boys can't. So I'll have to show you how. Come on."**

**He led the way to the kitchen and introduced Will to the mysteries of cooking** \- "Such as they are," Jenny and Will chorused. Gilan frowned again - **peeling and chopping onions, choosing a piece of beef from the meat safe, trimming it and cutting into neat cubes, then chopping vegetables, searing the beef in a sizzling pan, and finally adding a generous dash of red wine and some of what Halt called his "secret ingredients."**

Will snorted.

**The result was a savory-smelling stew, simmering on the top of the stove.**

Crowley, Halt, Horace, Will, and Gilan knew the smell well - and as a result, so did Lady Pauline and Alyss. The two women exchanged knowing smiles, and Horace and the Rangers all grinned - with the exception of Halt, who was simply Halt.

 **Now, as they waited for the dinner to be ready, they sat on the verandah** \- Crowley snorted - **in the early evening and talked quietly.**

**"The Rangers were founded over one hundred and fifty years ago, in King Herbert's reign. Do you know anything about him?" Halt looked sideways at the boy sitting beside him, tossing the question out quickly to see his response.**

"Of course it was a test." Will muttered with sigh.

**Will hesitated. He vaguely remembered the name from history lessons in the Ward, but he couldn't remember any details. Still, he decided to try and bluff his way through it. He didn't want to look too ignorant on his first day with his new master.**

"Mistake!" Gilan interrupted gleefully, as Will groaned and buried his face in his arms.

**"Oh...yes," he said, "King Herbert. We learned about him."**

Gilan cackled cheerfully. Will's moan of embarrassment was muffled by his arms. Alyss made sympathetic noises, but she was smiling. Halt merely lifted an eyebrow.

**"Really?" said the Ranger expansively. "Perhaps you could tell me a little about him?" He leaned back and crossed his legs, getting himself comfortable.**

Gilan opened his mouth to continue his merciless ribbing of the mortified Will, but Halt interrupted him.

"Enough, Gilan." He warned softly.

Gilan shut his mouth.

**Will cast about desperately in his memory, trying to remember even a shred of detail about King Herbert. He'd done...something, but what?**

**"He was..." He hesitated, pretending to gather his thoughts. "The king." That much he was sure of, and he glanced at Halt to see if he could stop now. Halt merely smiled** \- "He did _what?"_ Crowley put in incredulously, and King Duncan's eyebrows disappeared underneath his hairline - **and made a rolling gesture with his hand that meant _go on._**

**"He was the king...a hundred and fifty years ago," Will said, trying to sound certain of his facts. The ranger smiled at him, gesturing for him to continue yet again.**

"Astounding, how you remember that." Halt said dryly. Will shot him a look of betrayal, then returned his head to his arms.

**"Ummm...well, I seem to recall that he was the one who founded the Ranger Corps," he said hopefully, and Halt raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.  
**

**"Really? You recall that, do you?" he said, and Will had a horrible moment where he realized that Halt had merely said the Rangers were founded _during_ his reign, not necessarily _by_ him.**

Horace winced.

**"Ahhh, well, when I say he founded the Rangers, I actually mean he was the king when the Ranger Corps was founded," he said.**

**"A hundred and fifty years ago?" Halt prompted.**

"A hundred and fifty-eight, now." Jenny offered. Gilan nodded at her. Alyss rolled her eyes.

**Will nodded emphatically. "That's right."**

**"Well, that's remarkable, seeing how I just told you those facts a minute or so ago," the Ranger said, his eyebrows coming down like thunderclouds over his eyes. Will thought it might be better if he had said nothing.**

"Just getting that now, are we?" King Duncan asked, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. Sir Rodney snorted.

**Finally, the Ranger said, in a milder tone: "Boy, if you don't know something, don't try to bluff your way through it. Simply tell me 'I don't know,' is that clear?"**

**"Yes, Halt,"  
**

"And there goes the 'sir'." Halt said mournfully.

**Will said, eyes downcast. There was a silence, then he said, "Halt?"**

**"Yes?"**

**"About King Herbert...I don't really know," Will admitted.**

"Really?" Baron Arald asked. Lady Pauline was quite composed.

**The Ranger made a small snorting noise.**

**"Well, I never would have guessed," he said. "But I'm sure you'll remember when I tell you that he was the one who drove the northern clans back over the border into the Highlands?"**

**And, of course, the moment he mentioned it, Will did remember. King Herbert was known as the "Father of Modern Araluen." He had banded the fifty fiefs together into a powerful union to defeat the northern clans. Will could see a way to regain a little credit in Halt's eyes now. If he mentioned the "Father of Modern Araluen" title, maybe the Ranger would...  
**

**"He's sometimes known as the Father of Modern Araluen," Halt was saying,**

"Damn." Will said good-naturedly, in a much better mood now that he wasn't being humiliated by his younger self.

**and Will realized he'd left it too late. "He created the union between the fifty fiefs that's still our structure today."**

**"I sort of remember that now," Will put in. He thought the addition of "sort of" helped it sound as if he wasn't just being wise after the event. Halt looked at him, one eyebrow raised, then continued.**

**"At the time, King Herbert felt that to remain safe, the kingdom needed an effective intelligence force."**

**"An intelligent force?" said Will.**

"That does help matters." King Duncan put in thoughtfully.

**"Not intelligent. _Intelligence._ Although it does help if your intelligence force is also intelligent. Intelligence is the knowledge of what your enemies, or your potential enemies, are up to. What they're planning. What they're thinking."**

"Because we can read your thoughts." Crowley said solemnly, before his composure (composure? what composure?) slipped and he cracked up.

**"If you know that sort of thing in advance, you can usually come up with a plan to stop them. That's why he founded the Rangers - to keep the kingdom informed. To act as the eyes and ears of the kingdom."**

Those present who weren't Rangers were listening with interest, eager to hear the explanation of what Rangers did from the mouth of a Ranger.

**"How do you do that?" Will asked, his interest aroused now. Halt noted the change in tone and a momentary gleam of approval touched his eyes.**

Will grinned at the table.

**"We keep our eyes and ears open. We patrol the kingdom - and beyond. We listen. We observe. We report back."**

"Sometimes." King Duncan put in dryly, glancing significantly at Halt. Crowley sniggered. Halt did not look apologetic.

**Will nodded to himself, thinking. Then he asked: "Is that the reason why you can make yourselves invisible.?"**

**Again, the Ranger felt that moment of approval and satisfaction. But he made sure the boy didn't notice it.**

Will made a pouting face at Halt. Halt was not moved and simply raised an eyebrow, making Will break out in a grin.

 **"We can't make ourselves invisible," he said. "People just think we can. What we do is make ourselves very hard to see. It takes years of learning and practice to do it properly"** \- "Unless you happen to be Gilan," Will interrupted, nodding at his friend, who grinned - **"but you already have some of the skills required."**

**Will looked up, surprised. "I do?"**

**"When you crossed the castle yard last night, you used the shadows and the movement of the wind to conceal yourself, didn't you?"**

"Is _that_ how you do it?" Alyss mused aloud.

"Will hasn't demonstrated?" Cassandra asked, grinning slightly. Alyss and Will both flushed red.

**Will nodded. "Yes." He'd never met anyone before who actually understood his skill for moving without being seen. Halt continued.**

**"We use the same principles: to blend into the background. To use it to conceal us. To become part of it."**

**"I see," Will said slowly.**

"I hope not," Crowley muttered.

**"The trick is to make sure no one else does," Halt told him.**

"Was that a _joke?"_ Sir Rodney asked incredulously.

**For a moment, Will thought the Ranger had made a joke. But when he looked up, Halt was as grim-faced as ever.**

**"How many Rangers are there?" he asked. Halt and the Baron had referred more than once to the Ranger Corps, but Will had only ever seen one — and that was Halt.**

"We're doing our jobs then," Gilan put in cheerfully.

**"King Herbert established the Corps at fifty. One for each of the fifty fiefdoms. I'm based here. My colleagues are based at the other forty-nine castles throughout the kingdom."**

**"In addition to providing intelligence about potential enemies, Rangers are the law keepers," said Halt. "We patrol the fiefdom assigned to us and make sure the laws are being obeyed."**

**"I thought Baron Arald did that," Will put in. Halt shook his head.**

"Can you imagine all the paperwo..." Baron Arald started, before being glared down by Halt, Crowley, and King Duncan.

**"The Baron is a judge," he said. "People bring their complaints to him so he can settle them. Rangers enforce the law. We take the law out to the people. If a crime has been committed, we look for evidence. We're particularly suited to that role since people often don't realize we're around. We investigate to see who's responsible."**

**"What happens then?" Will asked. Halt gave a small shrug.**

**"Sometimes we report back to the baron of the fief and he'll have the person arrested and questioned. Sometimes, if it's a matter of urgency, we just…deal with it."**

Horace put liberal air quotes around the phrase 'deal with it'.

**"What do we do?" Will asked before he could stop himself. Halt gave him a long, considering look.**

"Does he have to spell it out for you?" Will fumed at his younger self.

**"Not too much if we've only been an apprentice for a few hours," he replied. "Those of us who've been Rangers for twenty years or more tend to know what to do without asking."**

**"Oh," said Will, suitably chastened. Halt continued.**

**"Then, in times of war, we act as special troops — guiding the armies, scouting before them, going behind enemy lines to cause the enemy grief and so on." He glanced down at the boy. "It's a bit more exciting than working on a farm."**

Will, recalling a conversation he'd recently had with Halt, burst out laughing, drawing some quizzical looks. Halt was laughing as well, not that you could tell - unless you happened to be Lady Pauline.

**Will nodded. Perhaps life as a Ranger's apprentice was going to have its appeal after all.**

"I should hope so," Halt grumbled.

**"What sort of enemies?" he asked. After all, Castle Redmont had been at peace for as long as he could remember.**

**"Enemies from within and without," Halt told him. "People like the Skandian sea raiders — or Morgarath and his Wargals."**

Horace shivered at the memory of his duel with Morgarath. Cassandra looked slightly pale at the mention of Wargals.

**Will shivered, recalling some of the more lurid stories about Morgarath, the Lord of the Mountains of Rain and Night. Halt nodded somberly at Will's reaction.**

**"Yes," he said, "Morgarath and his Wargals are definitely people to be worried about. That's why the Rangers keep an eye on them. We like to know if they're gathering, if they're getting ready for war."**

"Would be handy information to know, yes," King Duncan said lightly.

**"Still" said Will, as much to reassure himself as for any other reason, "the last time they attacked, the barons' armies made mincemeat out of them."**

**"That's true," Halt agreed, "But only because they'd been warned of the attack…" He paused and looked meaningfully at Will.**

"By a certain 'gray-cloaked meddler'," Crowley said, grinning at Halt.

**"By a Ranger?" the boy asked.**

"Same thing."

**"Correct. It was a Ranger who brought word that Morgarath's Wargals were on their way…then led the cavalry across a secret fjord so they could flank the enemy."**

**"It was a great victory," Will said.**

**"It certainly was. And all due to a Ranger's alertness and skill, and knowledge of the back trails and secret paths."**

Sir Rodney considered making a joke about Halt blowing his own horn, but decided against it.

**"My father died in that battle," Will added in a quieter voice, and Halt cast a curious look at him.**

"Here we go," Will sighed.

**"Is that so?" he said.**

**"He was a hero. A mighty knight," Will continued. The Ranger paused, almost as if he were deciding whether to say something or not. Then he simply replied:**

**"I wasn't aware of that."**

"Way to keep us hanging, Halt!" Jenny complained, suppressing a laugh.

**Will was conscious of a sense of disappointment. For a moment, he'd had a feeling that Halt knew something about his father, that he could tell him the story of his heroic death. He shrugged to himself.**

**"That was why I was so keen to go to Battleschool," he said finally. "To follow in his footsteps."**

**"You have other talents," Halt told him,**

Will flushed happily.

**and Will remembered the Baron saying much the same thing to him the previous night.**

**"Halt…," he said. The Ranger nodded for him to continued. "I was sort of wondering…the Baron said you chose me?"**

**Halt nodded again, saying nothing.**

"As per usual," Gilan sighed dramatically.

**"And both of you say I have other qualities — qualities that make me suitable to be a Ranger's apprentice…"**

**"That's right," Halt said.**

**"Well…what are they?"**

**The Ranger leaned back, linking his hands behind his head.**

**"You're agile. That's good in a Ranger," he began. "And, as we've discussed you can move quietly. That's very important. You're fast on your feet. And you're inquisitive…"**

"Are you ever." Halt muttered. Will was unrepentant (and perhaps a trifle smug).

**"Inquisitive? How do you mean?" asked Will.**

The irony was not missed, and everyone had a good laugh.

**Halt look at him sternly.**

**"Always asking questions. Always wanting to know answers," he explained. "That was why I had the Baron test you with that piece of paper."**

"Again with the tests," Will and Gilan said in tandem.

**"But when did you first notice me? I mean, when did you first think of selecting me?" Will wanted to know.**

**"Oh," said Halt, "I suppose it was when I watched you steal those cakes from Master Chubb's kitchen."**

Horace looked up with an evil grin on his face and opened his mouth, but Halt interrupted him.

"No!" He barked, making Cassandra jump. "We are not having this conversation again, Horace. Kindly continue."

Horace continued.

**Will's jaw dropped open with amazement.**

**"You watched me? But that was ages ago!" He had a sudden thought. "Where were you?"**

**"In the kitchen," said Halt. "You were too busy to notice me when you came in."**

**Will shook his head in wonder. He had been sure there was nobody in the kitchen. Then he remembered once again how Halt, wrapped in his cloak, could become virtually invisible. There was more to being a Ranger, he realized, than how to cook and clean.**

"You don't say?" Crowley muttered, still grinning a little from 'wildflowers' and 'verandah'.

**"I was impressed with your skill," said Halt. "But there was one thing that impressed me far more."**

**"What was that?" asked Will.**

**"Later, when Master Chubb questioned you, I saw you hesitate. You were going to deny having stolen the cakes. Then I saw you admit it. Remember? He hit you on the head with his wooden spoon."**

Will was currently attempting to evade Jenny's own wooden spoon. "Thanks for the reminder, Halt!" He snarked, yelping as Jenny caught him across the knuckles.

**Will grinned a rubbed his head thoughtfully. He could still hear the CRACK! made by the spoon hitting his head.**

**"I wondered if I shouldn't have lied," he admitted. Halt shook his head very slowly.**

**"Oh, no Will. If you'd lied, you never would have become my apprentice."**

"Bit of moral dissonance there, dear?" Lady Pauline put in thoughtfully.

**"Oh, no, Will. If you'd lied, you never would have become my apprentice." He stood up and stretched, turning to go indoors to the stew simmering on the stove.**

**"Now let's eat," he said.**

"You are speaking my language," Horace declared.

"We just ate! How are you hungry?" Will demanded, flabbergasted.


	10. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baron Arald reads Chapter Nine of Ruins of Gorlan. The desire to murder somebody ensues.

"Who wants to read next?" Horace asked, looking around the table. Baron Arald made a 'gimmie' motion with his hands, and Horace handed him the book. The Baron cleared his throat and began to read.

**Horace -**

"Wait, why are we reading about me? I'm not the Ranger's apprentice," Horace interrupted, confused.

"No, just his best friend and one of his closest companions. Keep reading please, Baron Arald." Cassandra shot her husband's humility down and Baron Arald continued reading with a slight smile.

**...dropped his pack on the floor of the dormitory and fell across his bed, groaning with relief.**

"What was it this time?" Gilan asked eagerly, leaning forward.

**Every muscle in his body ached. He had no idea that he could feel so sore, so worn-out. He had no idea that there were so many muscles in the human body that could feel this way.**

Horace was suddenly reminded of Svengal's comment after riding a horse and had to stifle a laugh. Those not in Arridia at the time cast him quizzical looks. Those who were hid their smiles.

**Not for the first time, he wondered if he was going to get through the three years of Battleschool training. He'd been a cadet for less than a week and already he was a total physical wreck.**

Sir Rodney did not look sympathetic in the least. Horace went slightly red, guessing where this might be headed.

**When he'd applied for Battleschool, Horace had a vague notion of glittering, armor-clad knights doing battle, while lesser folk stood by and watched in awed admiration.**

Sir Rodney leaned back and laughed aloud. Horace shot him a wounded look.

"Well, you didn't lack for confidence..." King Duncan started, then stopped to spare his son-in-law more embarrassment.

**Quite a few of those lesser folk, in his mental picture, had been attractive girls—Jenny, his yearmate in the Ward, had been prominent among them. To him, Battleschool had been a place of glamor and adventure, and Battleschool cadets were people that others looked up to and envied.**

Horace groaned. Jenny blushed and giggled slightly. Cassandra pretended to be offended, but couldn't quite pull it off. The knights amongst them - Duncan, Arald, and Rodney - were smiling with varying degrees of sympathy (in order from greatest to least - Duncan, Arald, Rodney). Crowley was grinning in anticipation of a chapter similar to the last - Horace making embarrassing but inconsiquential mistakes and everyone getting a laugh out of it. Will had a vague sense of foreboding (that he ignored for the sake of levity), but Halt sat grim and taciturn. Lady Pauline and Alyss picked up on Halt's stony unease and kept quiet.

Then there was Gilan.

"Idiot."

That summed up most of Horace's inner monologue in one word.

**The reality was something else. So far, Battleschool cadets were people that rose before the dawn and spent the hour before breakfast doing a severe course of physical training: running, lifting weights, standing in lines of ten or more to lift and hold heavy logs over their heads.**

"See, the first three I would have been fine with," Will protested. Horace snickered.

**Exhausted by all of this, they were then returned to their quarters, where they had the opportunity to take a brief shower—the water was cold—before making sure the dormitory and ablutions block were absolutely spotless. Quarters inspection came after that and it was painstaking. Sir Karel, the wiry old knight who carried out the inspection, knew every trick in the book when it came to taking shortcuts in cleaning the dormitory, making your bed and stowing your kit.**

"Because he thought them all up!" Sir Rodney crowed, taking juvenile delight in the fact. Crowley choked on his laughter, Halt raised a surprised eyebrow, and Horace stared.

"Sir _Karel?"_ He asked in disbelief.

Baron Arald nodded. "Oh, yes. Karel was a couple years above us in Battleschool. Many a time we'd hear _'Piketon!'_ ringing through the barracks..."

"...followed by all our stuff hitting the floor," Sir Rodney finished. The two men shared a grin.

**The slightest infringement on the part of one of the twenty boys in the dormitory would mean all their kit would be scattered across the floor, their beds turned over, the rubbish bins emptied on the floor, and they would have to turn to and start again—in the time when they should have been having breakfast.**

"How did you survive?" Will asked in mock horror. Horace made a face at him.

**As a consequence, new cadets only tried once to pull the wool over Sir Karel's eyes. Breakfast was nothing special. In fact, in Horace's opinion, it was downright basic. But if you missed it, it was a long, hard morning until the lunch hour, which, in keeping with the Spartan life in Battleschool, was only twenty minutes long.**

"Only twenty minutes? How did you survive?" Will repeated, voice heavy with sarcasm, grinning like an idiot.

"Oh, shut up," Horace muttered, face red. Will didn't pursue the subject, refraining from making another jab at Horace's expense.

**After breakfast, there were classes for two hours in military history, the theory of tactics and so on** \- "Fun," Gilan recalled gloomily - **then the cadets were usually required to run the obstacle course—as series of obstacles designed to test speed, agility, balance, and strength.**

"See, I would have done okay at the first three," Will pointed out, pretending to pout. Horace, always happy to have the upper hand in a verbal conflict with Will, managed to look superior while holding in laughter.

**There was a minimum time standard for the course. It had to be completed in under five minutes, and any cadet who failed to do so was immediately sent back to the start to try again.**

Arald made a face, recalling the many times he'd fallen under the old Battlemaster's hawk eyes. Rodney smirked, guessing what he was thinking about.

**It was rare that anyone completed the course without falling at least once, and the course was littered with mud pools, water hazards and pits filled with nameless but unpleasant matter whose origin Horace didn't want to even think about.**

"Leftovers from the kitchens," Sir Rodney snickered.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Horace wondered.

**Lunch followed the obstacle course, but if you'd fallen during the run, you had to clean up before entering the mess hall — another of those famous cold showers** \- here, Baron Arald was slightly more sympathetic (though Sir Rodney remained unimpressed) - **and that usually took half the time set aside for the meal break. As a consequence, Horace's overwhelming impressions of the first week of Battleschool were a combination of aching muscles and gnawing hunger**

Will opened his mouth, but didn't get any further before Horace pointed a warning finger at him.

"If you say 'how did you survive' _one more time_ -"

Will snickered. Alyss elbowed him, though more gently than previously.

**There were more classes after lunch, then physical jerks in the castle yard under the eye of one of the senior-year cadets. Then the class would form up and perform close-order drill** \- "Usually a favorite," Sir Rodney commented, and Horace couldn't argue - **until the end of the school day, when they would have two hours to themselves, to clean and repair gear and prepare lessons for the following day's classes.**

"Rinse and repeat," Horace said, with an air of casual glumness that was ruined by the grin he was wearing.

**Unless, of course, someone had transgressed during the course of the day, or in some way caused displeasure to one of their instructors or observers. In which case, they would all be** **invited** \- Horace made air quotes around 'invited' - **to load the packs with rocks and set out on a twelve-kilometer run along a course mapped out through the surrounding countryside.**

"Oh, fun times," Sir Rodney sighed, grinning. Baron Arald sent him a scathing look and kept reading. Sir Rodney snickered to himself. Arald's old buttons were resurfacing.

The other occupants of the room looked at the two curiously. Crowley and Halt, the former of which had heard stories from Pritchard and known the two from his apprenticeship years and the latter of which had known them for most of their lives after the Araluen Civil War,

**Invariably, the course was nowhere near any of the level roads or tracks in the area. It meant running through broken, uneven ground up hills and across streams, through heavily overgrown thickets where hanging vines and thick underbrush would claw at you and try to pull you down.**

"Doesn't _that_ sound familiar," Will muttered, not quite quietly enough. Halt glared at him.

**Horace had just completed one such run. Earlier in the day, one of his classmates had been spotted in Tactics I, passing a note to a friend. Unfortunately, the note was not in the form of text but was an unflattering caricature of the long-nosed instructor who taught the class.**

Gilan howled with laughter. Baron Arald and Sir Rodney glanced at each other, then found themselves smothering their own laughter - quite unsuccessfully.

**Equally unfortunately, the boy possessed considerable skill as a cartoonist and the drawing was instantly recognizable.**

Gilan's laughter redoubled, and Baron Arald had to stop for almost five minutes to regain his composure. Sir Rodney wasn't helping. Horace watched the two in fascination. They were being almost _juvenile._

**As a result, Horace and his class had been invited** \- Horace put liberal air quotes around 'invited' - **to fill those packs and start running.**

**He'd gradually felt himself pulling away from the rest of the boys as they labored up the fir hill. Even after a few days, the strict regime of the Battleschool was beginning to show results with Horace.**

Sir Rodney grinned proudly.

**He was fitter than he'd ever been in his life. Added to that was the fact that he had natural ability as an athlete.**

**Though he was unaware of it, he ran with balance and grace, where the others seemed to struggle. As the run progressed, he found himself far in front of the others. He pounded on, head up and breathing evenly through his nostrils.**

King Duncan nodded to himself. That sounded very Horace.

**So far, he hadn't much chance to get to know his new classmates. He'd seen most of them around the castle or the village over the years, of course, but growing up in the Ward had tended to isolate him from the normal, day-to-day life of the castle and village.**

**Ward children couldn't help but feel different from the others. And it was a feeling that the boys and girls with parents still living reciprocated.**

Baron Arald scowled at those last two sentences and made a mental note to do something about it.

**The Choosing Ceremony was peculiar to Ward members only. Horace was one of twenty new Battleschool recruits that year, the other nineteen coming through what was considered the normal process—parental influence, patronage, or recommendation from their teachers.**

Sir Rodney and Baron Arald shared a glance.

**As a result, he was regarded as something of a curiosity, and the other boys had so far made no overtures of friendship or even much attempt to get to know him. Still, he thought, smiling with grim satisfaction, he had beaten them all in the run. None of the others were back yet. He'd shown them, all right.**

Cassandra grinned cheekily at Horace, who flushed bright red and mumbled something about being young.

**The door at the end of the dormitory crashed back on its hinges and heavy boots sounded on the bare floorboards. Horace raised himself on one elbow and groaned inwardly.**

"You'd be groaning for real if it had been Karel," Rodney told him. Horace merely raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" He muttered.

**Bryn, Alda and Jerome were marching toward him between the rows of perfectly made beds. They were second-year cadets and they seemed to have decided that their life's work was to make Horace's life miserable.**

Sir Rodney's eyebrows drew together in a thunderous scowl. Bullying was _not_ tolerated at Battleschool - especially not _his_ Battleschool. He was particularly vehement about it.

Halt's scowl almost matched Rodney's in intensity. He remembered those three. Almost unconsciously, he glanced at Will, who's face looked suddenly stony.

**Quickly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, but not quickly enough.**

**"What are you doing lying in bed?" Alda yelled at him. "Who told you it was lights out?"**

**Bryn and Jerome grinned. They enjoyed Alda's verbal sallies.**

"Does a disservice to the word, to call them that," Cassandra muttered darkly, then went on under her breath about the three in increasingly unflattering language.

**They weren't anywhere near as original. But they made up for their lack of verbal invention with a heavy reliance on the physical side of things.**

**"Twenty push-ups!" Bryn ordered. "Now!"**

**Horace hesitated a moment. He was actually bigger than any of them. If it came to a confrontation, he was sure he could beat any one of them.**

"Do it!" Cassandra encouraged, leaning forward with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

**But they were three. And besides, they had the authority of tradition behind them. As far as he knew, it was normal practice for second-year to treat first-year cadets like this, and he could imagine the scorn of his classmates if he were to complain to authority about it.**

Sir Rodney made an inarticulate sound of rage in his throat. Horace looked at him in surprise. The Battlemaster's eyes were narrowed and he was glaring at the page as if it had personally offended him.

Baron Arald didn't look too pleased with it either.

**Nobody likes a crybaby, he told himself as he began to drop to the ground. But Byrn had seen the hesitation and perhaps even the fleeting light of rebellion in his eyes.**

**"Thirty push-ups!" he snapped. "Do it now!"**

**His muscles protesting, Horace dropped full length to the floor and began the push-ups. Immediately, he felt a foot in the small of his back, bearing down upon him as he tried to raise himself from the floor.**

A muscle twitched in Rodney's jaw. Gilan scowled. The Baron continued reading with ice in his voice.

**"Come on, Baby!" It was Jerome now. "Put a bit of effort into it!"**

Will had joined in the scowl-fest, disgusted with their treatment of his best friend.

**Horace struggled through a push-up. Jerome had developed the skill of maintaining just the right amount of pressure.**

_It's probably been done to him,_ Rodney realized. His jaw tightened further. _  
_

**"Any more and Horace would never have been able to complete the push-up. But the second-year cadet also kept pressing down as Horace started back down again. That made the exercise all the harder. He had to maintain the same amount of upward pressure as he lowered himself, otherwise he would be driven hard against the floor. Groaning, he completed the first, then started another.**

Horace noted with some interest that Rodney appeared to be strangling the air.

**"Stop crying, Baby!" Alda yelled at him. Then he moved to Horace's bed.**

**"Didn't you make this bed this morning?" he yelled. Horace, struggling up again against the pressure of Jerome's foot, could only grunt.**

Will's eyes narrowed, mind jumping ahead to the inevitable conclusion.

**"What? What?" Alda bent so that his face was only centimeters away. "What's that, Baby? Speak up!"**

**"Yes . . . sir,"** \- Rodney made an undignified snarling noise in the back of his throat - **Horace managed to whisper. Alda shook his head in an exaggerated movement.**

**"No sir, I think!" he said, standing upright again. "Look at this bed. It's a pigsty!"**

"Your face is a pigsty," Will muttered, which generated more amusement than it should have.

**Naturally, the covers were a little rumpled where Horace had dropped across the bed. But it would have taken only a second or two to straighten them. Grinning, Bryn cottoned on to Alda's plan. He stepped forward and kicked the bed over on its side, spilling mattress, blankets and pillows across the floor.**

"Funny, he doesn't _look_ like Karel..." Baron Arald muttered darkly.

**"Make the bed again!" he yelled. Then a light gleamed in his eye and he turned to the next bed in line, kicking it over as well, scattering the bedclothes and mattresses as he'd done to Horace's.**

**"Make them all again!" he yelled, delighted with his idea. Bryn joined him, grinning widely, as they tumbled the twenty beds, scattering blankets, pillows and mattresses around the room. Horace, still struggling through the thirty push-ups, gritted his teeth. Perspiration ran into his eyes, stinging them and blurring his vision.**

Cassandra had a dangerous look on her face. Horace shifted uncomfortably. Halt felt bad about being so hard on Horace earlier.

**"Crying, are you, Baby?" he heard Jerome yell. "Go home and cry to Mummy then!"**

**His foot shoved viciously into Horace's back, sending him sprawling on the floor.**

**"Baby doesn't have a mummy," Alda said. "Baby's a Ward brat. Mummy ran off with a riverboat sailor."**

Baron Arald twitched noticeably, but kept reading.

**Jerome bent down to him again. "Is that right, Baby?" he hissed. "Did Mummy run away and leave you?"**

**"My mother is dead," Horace grated at them.**

Baron Arald twitched again, more violently this time.

**Angrily, he began to rise, but Jerome's foot was on the back of his neck, thrusting his face against the hard boards. Horace gave up the attempt.**

**"Very sad," Alda said, and the other two laughed. "Now clean this mess up, Baby, or we'll have you run the course again."**

**Horace lay, exhausted, as the three older boys swaggered out the room, tipping foot lockers over as they went, spilling his roommates' belongings onto the floor. He closed his eyes a alt perspiration stung its way into them again.**

**"I hate this place," he said, his voice muffled by the rough planks of the floor.**

At that, Sir Rodney was wound tighter than a loaded crossbow, Baron Arald looked ready to attack something, and Halt and Will both had dangerous looks on their faces. Cassandra took the crown, however, with a look that would have sent the Kalkara running.

Wordlessly, Baron Arald passed the book to Crowley, who flipped quickly through the next chapter.

"One more before bed would be wise, I think," he announced to a silent room.


	11. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reads Chapter Ten of Ruins of Gorlan. The desire to murder somebody dissipates. Yay.

Crowley coughed slightly, eyes darting around the room, well aware of the tension - you could cut it with a butter knife - and began reading the next chapter.

**"Time you learned about the weapons you'll be using," said Halt.**

"That would be helpful, yes," Will put in dryly, just a heartbeat behind Gilan.

**They had eaten breakfast well before sunup and Will had followed Halt into the forest. They'd walked for about half an hour, with the Ranger showing Will how to glide from one path of shade to the next, as silently as possible.**

**Will was a good student in the art of unseen movement,**

"Of course, nothing compared to Gilan," Will acknowledged, nodding to his friend, who grinned, embarrassed, at the table as Jenny beamed.

**...as Halt had already remarked, but he had a lot to learn before he reached Ranger standard. Still, Halt was pleased with his progress. The boy was keen to learn—particularly when it was a matter of field craft like this**

**It was a slightly different matter when it came to the less exciting tasks like map reading and chart drawing.**

Will groaned. Even still, he harbored something of a dislike for chart drawing. Maps were highly useful, he'd decided, just as long as he didn't have to draw them.

**Will tended to skip over details that he saw as unimportant until Halt pointed out to him, with some acerbity, "You'd find these skills would become a little more important if you were planning a route for a company of heavy cavalry and forgot to mention that there's a stream in the way."**

"Had some experience with that, have we Halt?" King Duncan asked dryly. Halt leveled the king with his stoniest look.

"A little, your majesty."

**Now, they stopped in a clearing and Halt dropped a small bundle that had been concealed beneath his cloak.**

**Will regarded the bundle doubtfully. When he thought of weapons, he thought of swords and battleaxes and war maces—weapons carried by knights.**

"War maces, Will?" Sir Rodney asked in a pained voice, shaking his head. "Went out of use years ago. Mostly impractical in the types of battles we find ourselves in."

**It was obvious that this small bundle contained none of those.**

**"What sort of weapons? Do we have swords?" Will asked, his eyes glued to the bundle.**

"Didn't you just say the bundle obviously did not contain swords?" Horace asked dubiously. Will mock-glared at him.

**"A Ranger's principal weapons are stealth and silence and his ability to avoid being seen," said Halt. "But sometimes, we have to fight."  
**

**"So then we have a sword?" Will said hopefully.**

"What is it with you and swords?" Gilan wondered.

**Halt knelt and unwrapped the bundle.**

**"No. Then we have a bow," he said and placed it at Will's feet.**

**Will's first reaction was one of disappointment.**

"You'll get over it," Crowley said cheerfully.

"Again, may I remind you all that this already happened?" Will said, a touch testily, even if he was grinning.

**A bow was something people used for hunting, he thought. Everyone had bows.**

**A bow was more a tool than a weapon. As a child, he had made his fair share of them himself, bending a springy tree branch into shape.**

So that was mildly impressive, Halt thought. But he didn't say a thing.

**Then, as Halt said nothing, he looked more closely at the bow. This, he realized, was no bent branch**

"Congratulations, past me, you have eyeballs." Will muttered. Horace chuckled.

**It was unlike any bow that Will had ever seen before. Most of the bow followed one long curve like a normal longbow, but then each tip curved back in the opposite direction. Will, like most of the people of the kingdom, was used to the standard longbow—which was one long piece of wood bent into a continuous curve. This one was a good deal shorter.**

**"It's called a recurve bow," said Halt, sensing his puzzlement. "You're not strong enough to handle a full longbow yet, so the double curve will give you extra arrow speed and power, with a lower draw weight. I learned how to make one from the Temujai."**

"And by 'learned' you of course mean 'stole like a common thief', Crowley put in cheerfully. Halt glared at him. King Duncan pretended not to hear. Most everyone else laughed.

**"Who are the Temujai?" asked Will, looking up from the strange bow.**

"The most irritating bastards to ever walk the earth," Halt groused irritably. Horace and Will agreed. Formidable opponents...and therefore highly irritating.

**"Fierce fighting men from the east," said Halt. "And probably the world's finest archers."**

**"You fought against them?"**

**"Against them . . . and with them for a time," said Halt. "Stop asking so many questions."**

Will snickered unrepentantly.

**Will glanced down at the bow in his hand again. Now that he was becoming used to its unusual shape, he could see that it was a beautifully made weapon. Several shaped strips of wood had been glued together, with their grains running in different directions. They were of differing thicknesses and it was this that achieved the double curve of the bow, as the different forces strained against each other, bending the limbs of the bow into a carefully planned pattern.**

**Maybe, he thought, this was really a weapon, after all.**

"You don't say?"

**"Can I shoot it?" he asked.**

"Don't do it!" Will yelped at his past-self.

Gilan was laughing again. "Idiot," he chortled.

**Halt nodded. "If you feel that's a good idea, go ahead," he said.**

"Which is Halt-speak for _do not do this thing."_ Crowley quipped.

 **Quickly, Will chose an arrow from the quiver that had been in the bundle alongside the bow and fitted it to the string. He pulled the arrow back with his thumb and forefinger** \- Will sighed in resignation - **aimed at the tree trunk some twenty meters away and fired.**

**_Whack!_ **

**"The heavy bowstring slapped into the soft flesh on the inside of his arm, stinging like a whip. Will yelled with pain and dropped the bow as if it were red-hot.**

"Idiot."

"Shut up, Gilan."

**Already a thick red welt was forming on his arm. It throbbed painfully. Will had no idea where the arrow had gone. Nor did he care.**

**"That hurt!" he said, looking accusingly at the Ranger.**

"Are you expecting that to matter to him?" Gilan muttered, not quite under his breath.

**Halt shrugged.**

**"You're always in a hurry youngster," he said. "That may teach you to wait a little next time."**

"Rather unorthodox teaching method you've got there, Halt." King Duncan put in dryly.

Halt shrugged.

"It works."

**He bent to the bundle and pulled out a long cuff made of stiff leather. He slid it onto Will's left arm so that it would protect him from the bowstring.**

**Ruefully, Will noticed that Halt was wearing a similar cuff. Even more ruefully, he realized that he'd noticed this before, but never wondered about the reason for it.**

Will sighed and dropped his head. Back to the embarrassing of Will, it seemed.

**"Now try it again," said Halt.**

**Will chose another arrow and placed it on the string. As he went to draw it back again, Halt stopped him.**

**"Not with the thumb and finger," he said. "Let the arrow rest between the first and second fingers on the string...like this."**

"Yes, Will, like thi-"

_"Shut up, Gilan."_

**"He showed Will how to nock—the notch at the butt end of the arrow actually clipped to the string and held the arrow in place. Then he demonstrated how to let the string rest on the first joint of the first, second, and third fingers, with the first finger above the nock point and the others below it. Finally, he showed him how to allow the string to slip loose so that the arrow was released.**

**"That's better," he said and, as Will brought the arrow back, continued, "Try to use your back muscles, not just your arms. Feel as if you're pushing your shoulder blades together..."**

**"Will tried it and the bow seemed to draw a little easier. He found he could hold it steadier than before.**

**He fired again. This time, he just missed the tree trunk he'd been aiming for.**

**"You need to practice," said Halt.**

"His favorite word." Gilan said, just as Will put in "Your favorite word." Halt raised an eyebrow at the two of them.

**"Put it down for now."**

**Carefully, Will laid the bow down on the ground. He was eager now to see what Halt would produce next from the bundle.**

**"These are a Ranger's knives," said Halt. He handed Will a double scabbard, like the one he wore on the left-hand side of his own belt.**

"Oh, this should be good..."

"I would like it noted I still have all my fingers and toes." Will said loudly. Cassandra laughed, and Alyss stifled an unladylike snort.

**Will took the double scabbard and examined it. The knives were set one above the other. The top knife was the shorter of the two. It had a thick, heavy grip made of a series of leather discs set one above the other. There was a brass crosspiece between the hilt and the blade and it had a matching brass pummel.**

**"Take it out," said Halt. "Do it carefully."**

Gilan drew breath to make another comment.

"You are forbidden from speaking." Will grumbled.

Gilan shut his mouth, grinning from ear to ear.

**Will slid the short knife from the scabbard. It was an unusual shape. Narrow at the hilt, it tapered out sharply, becoming thicker and wider for three quarters of its length to form a broad blade with the weight concentrated toward the tip, then a steep reverse taper created a razor-sharp point. He looked curiously at Halt.**

"Throwing knife?" Baron Arald guessed. Halt nodded at him in confirmation.

**"It's for throwing," said the Ranger. "The extra width at the tip balances the weight of the hilt. And the combined weight of the two helps drive the knife home when you throw it. Watch."**

**His hand moved smoothly and swiftly to the broad-bladed knife at his own waist. He flicked it free from the scabbard and, in one smooth action, sent it spinning toward a nearby tree.**

"What did the tree ever do to you, Halt?" Sir Rodney asked.

Halt leveled him with his patented 'Do-Not-Keep-Talking-If-You-Value-Your-Life' stare.

**The knife thudded home into the wood with a satisfying** **_thock!_ ** **Will looked at Halt, impressed with the Ranger's skill and speed.**

**"How do you learn to do that?" he asked.**

**Halt looked at him. "Practice."**

"Nothing's ever easy, is it?" Will wondered, faux-morosely.

"You didn't used to complain this much," Horace noted.

Halt snorted.

"Don't snort, dear. You're not Abelard."

**He gestured for Will to inspect the second knife.**

**This one was longer. The handle was the same leather disc construction, and there was a short, sturdy crosspiece. The blade was heavy and straight, razor-sharp on one side, thick and heavy on the other.**

**"This is in case your enemy gets to close quarters," said Halt. "Although if you're any sort of an archer, he never will."**

"How often have we had to resort to close combat again, Halt?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

Halt glared.

"Extenuating circumstances."

King Duncan pretended to take notes.

**"It's balanced for throwing, but you can also block a sword stroke with that blade. It's made by the finest smiths in the kingdom. Look after it and keep it sharp."**

**"I will," the apprentice said softly, admiring the knife in his hands.**

**"It's similar to what the Skandians -** "Oh, those buggers," Sir Rodney grumbled. Will, Horace, and Cassandra sent him wounded looks, and Halt kicked him under the table. The knight was suitably chastened - **call a saxe knife," Halt told him. Will frowned at the unfamiliar name and Halt went on to explain further.**

**"It's both a weapon and a tool—a sea ax originally. But over the years the words sort of slid together to become saxe. Mind you," he added, "the quality of the steel in ours is a long way superior to the Skandian ones."**

"Don't let them hear you say that, of course," Cassandra put in cheerfully.

"Of course not," Halt agreed.

**Will studied the knife more closely, seeing the faint blue tint in the blade, feeling the perfect balance. With its leather and brass hilt, the knife might be plain and functional in appearance. But it was a fine weapon and, Will realized, far superior to the comparatively clumsy swords worn by castle Redmont's warriors.**

"Hey!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Will answered, waving an apologetic hand in Sir Rodney, Baron Arald, and Horace's direction, even if he ruined the effect by laughing.

**Halt showed him how to strap the double scabbard to his belt to that his hand fell naturally to the knife hilts. "Now," he said, "all you have to do is learn to use them. And you know what that means, don't you?"**

**Will nodded his head, grinning.**

**"A lot of practice," he said.**

"Yay," Will deadpanned. The table laughed (minus, of course, Halt).

"Good call, Crowley." Gilan said quietly, shaking his head and grinning. The tension from the last chapter had all but disappeared.

Crowley grinned.


	12. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will reads Chapter Eleven of Ruins of Gorlan. Sarcastic Halt ensues.
> 
> (No, I'm not running out of things to ensue, why do you ask?)

"Will, you're the only one who hasn't read." Crowley called, handing him the book.

Will made a face. "Bad enough hearing other people read about me, this is just strange," he muttered, but accepted the book, turned to the appropriate page, and started reading. "Oh. It's back to Horace."

"Oh yay," Horace muttered under his breath.

 **Sir Rodney** \- the knight in question looked surprised at the mention - **leaned on the timber fence surrounding the practice area as he watched the new Battleschool cadets going through their weapons drill.**

"Uh-oh." Horace muttered. The rest of the table looked at him questioningly - Sir Rodney especially.

"I think I know where this is headed," he explained.

**He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the twenty new recruits, but always to one in particular - the broad-shouldered, tall boy from the Ward, whom Rodney had selected at the Choosing. He thought for a moment, searching for the boy's name.**

**Horace. That was it.**

"Sir Rodney!" Cassandra scolded, pretending to be mortally offended. Horace chuckled inwardly at the sheepish expression on the Redmont Battlemaster's face.

 **The drill was standard format. Each boy, wearing a chain mail shirt and helmet and carrying a shield, stood before a padded hardwood post the height of a man. There was no point practicing sword work unless you were burdened with shield, helmet and armor, as would be the cast in a battle** \- "You hope," Baron Arald put in, raising an eyebrow at Rodney, who grimaced at some shared memory - **Rodney believed. He thought it was best that the boys became used to the restrictions of the armor an weight of the equipment right from the start.**

Halt was wearing the Halt equivalent of a smirk as he looked at Gilan, who flushed at the memory of his training with MacNeil - with no armor, under the excuse that 'Rangers don't wear armor'. He'd come out of _that_ bout so bruised his skin resembled a ranger cloak.

**In addition to shield, helmet and mail, each boy also held a drill sword issued by the armorer. The drill swords were made of wood and bore little resemblance to a real sword, aside from the leatherbound hilt and crosspiece on each.  
**

"Of course, they still hurt like a son of a - Wargal." Horace hastily improvised. Will promptly erupted into hysterics, Cassandra tried to look scandalized at Horace's language (and failed miserably), and Halt was wearing his shark-tooth grin again, to the unsettlement of most of the rest of the table. Rodney, who had some idea what Horace was referring to, quietly filled the Baron in. Arald found it highly amusing.

**In fact, they were long batons, made of seasoned, hardened hickory. But they weighed much the same as a slender steel blade, and the hilts were weighted to approximate the heft and balance of a real sword.**

"But other than that, they're nothing like a sword." King Duncan quipped. Rodney scowled as Arald grinned.

**Eventually, the recruits would progress to drilling with actual swords - albeit with blunted edges and points. But that was still some months away, by which time the less suitable recruits would have been weeded out. It was quite normal for at least a third of the Battleschool applicants to drop out of the harsh training in the first three months. Sometimes it was the boy's choice. For the others, it was at the discretion of his instructors or, in extreme cases, Sir Rodney himself.**

"Does that happen often?" Horace inquired.

Rodney shook his head. "I can think of...five, off the top of my head. And you know three of them," he added.

Horace grinned fiercely.

**Battleschool was harsh and standards were strict.**

"No argument there," Horace muttered.

**The practice yard rang with the thudding of wood against the thick, sun-hardened leatheer padding on the practice posts. At the head of the yard, drillmaster Sir Karel -**

"Piketon..." Arald started, and both Baron and Battlemaster were snickering.

**\- called the standard strokes that were being practiced.**

**Five third-year cadets, under the direction of Sir Morton, an assistant drill instructor, moved among the boys, attending to the detail of the basic sword strokes: correcting a wrong movement here, changing the angle of a stroke there, making sure another boy's shield wasn't dropping to far as he struck.**

"Which can and often does end in being skewered," Horace muttered.

**It was boring, repetitive work under the hot afternoon sun.**

Gilan shuddered, remembering MacNeil's grueling drills.

Horace, on the other hand, made a slightly indignant noise in the back of his throat. "It wasn't _that_ bad," he protested. "One of the better parts of the day, actually."

Rodney lifted an eyebrow in Horace's direction. Horace lifted his own in response.

**But it was necessary. These were the basic moves by which these boys might well live or die at some later date and it was vital that they should be so totally ingrained as to be instinctive.**

"Well, I'm still here, so I'd say it worked." Horace pointed out drily. He seemed to have temporarily taken over the mantle of Carrier of the Humor from Will for the chapter.

**It was that thought that had Rodney watching Horace now.**

"Oh boy," Horace muttered resignedly. "Here we go..."

**As Karel called the basic cadence, Rodney had noticed that Horace was adding an occasional stroke to the sequence, and yet managing to do so without falling behind in his timing.**

Gilan whistled, impressed. Horace flushed, but couldn't hide the tiny, grateful smile that crossed his face. Cassandra beamed.

**Karel had just begun another sequence and Sir Rodney leaned forward attentively, his eyes fixed on Horace.**

**"Thrust! Side cut! Backhand side! Overhand!" called the drillmaster. "Overhead backhand!"**

**And there it was again! As Karel called for the overhead backhand cut, Horace delivered it, but then almost instantly switched to a backhand side cut as well, allowing the first cut to bounce off the post to prepare him instantly for the second.**

King Duncan made an impressed-sounding noise in his throat and looked at his son-in-law with no small amount of pride.

**The stroke was delivered with such stunning speed and force that, in real combat, the result would have been devastating. His opponent's shield, raised to block the overhead cut, could never have responded quickly enough to protect uncovered ribs from the rapid side cut that followed. Rodney had become aware over the past few minutes that the trainee was adding these extra strokes to the routine. He had seen it first from the corner of his eye, noticing a slight variation in the strict pattern of the drill, a quick flicker of extra movement that was there and gone almost too quickly to be noticed.**

Gilan whistled again. Horace flushed.

 **"Rest!" called Karel now, and Rodney noted that, while most of the others let their weapons drop and stood flatfooted** \- "Morons," Crowley muttered earning him a look from Rodney - **Horace maintained his ready position, the sword tip slightly above waist height, moving on his toes in the break so as not to lose his own natural rhythm.**

Halt gave Horace an approving nod. Horace flushed and grinned at the table.

Then Halt decided to poke a hole in Horace's ego. Just to be safe, you understand.

"Of course, it's only impressive as long as you don't trip over your own feet."

That got a round of chuckles from the table. Horace just rolled his eyes and grinned some more.

 **Apparently, someone else had noticed Horace's extra stroke as well. Sir Morton beckoned over one of the senior cadets and spoke to him, gesturing quickly towards Horace. The first-year trainee, his attention still focused on the training post that was his enemy** \- "What did the training post ever do to you?" Will wondered - **didn't see the exchange. He looked up, startled, as the senior cadet approached and called to him.**

**"You there! At post fourteen. What d'you think you're doing?"**

Rodney resisted the urge to facepalm, instead groaning. Horace, the table noted, had dropped his head into his arms and was refusing to come up for air.

**The look on Horace's face was one of bewilderment - and worry. No first-year recruit enjoyed gaining the attention of any of the drillmasters of their assistants. They were all too conscious of that thirty percent attrition rate.**

"That's terrible!" Jenny cried.

Rodney offered her a gentle smile, not wanting to antagonize the best cook in Redmont. "It's done to put pressure on the cadets, to see who will break under the stress. Better for them to break in Battleschool than break in combat."

Jenny looked uncertainly at Gilan and the Baron for confirmation. Arald just shrugged.

"I don't know why you're asking me, he's the expert here."

**"Sir?" he said anxiously, not understanding the question. The senior cadet continued.**

**"You're not following the pattern. Follow Sir Karel's call, understand?"**

"Technically, he _was_ following the pattern," Will muttered. "Didn't you say that he was staying in time with the call?" He asked the book.

"And now you're talking to the book as well as Tug," Alyss complained with a sigh. "What ever next? The table?"

**"Rodney, watching carefully, was convinced that Horace's bewilderment was genuine. The tall boy made a small movement of the shoulders, almost a shrug but not quite. He was at attention now, the sword resting over his right shoulder and the shield up in the parade position.**

**"Sir?" he said again, uncertainly. The senior cadet was getting angry now. He hadn't noticed Horace's extra moves himself and obviously assumed the younger boy was simply following a random sequence of his own devising. He leaned forward, his face only a few centimeters away from Horace's, and said, in a voice far too loud for that amount of separation:**

"Naturally," Baron Arald grumbled.

Horace had to laugh at Gilan miming wiping spit off his face.

**"Sir Karel calls the sequence he wants performed! You perform it! Understand?"**

"Again with the _technically_ _,_ he did!" Crowley groused.

" **Sir, I . . . did," Horace replied, very red in the face now. He knew it was a mistake to argue with an instructor, but he also knew that he had performed every one of the strokes Karel had called.**

**The senior cadet, Rodney saw, was now at a disadvantage. He hadn't actually seen what Horace had done. He covered his uncertainty with bluster. "Oh, you did, did you? Well, perhaps you might just repeat the last sequence for me. What sequence did Sir Karel call?"**

**"Without hesitation, Horace replied. "Sequence five, sir. Thrust. Side cut. Backhand side. Overhand. Overhand backhand."**

"Really, cadet?" Halt said, sounding pained. "Was that the best test?"

"You'd be surprised," Rodney responded with a sigh.

**The senior cadet hesitated. He'd assumed that Horace had simply been in a dream, hacking away at the post in any way he chose. But, as far as he could remember, Horace had just repeated the previous sequence perfectly. At least, he thought he had. The senior cadet wasn't altogether sure of the sequence himself—**

There were several groans. Rodney massaged his temples.

"This." He muttered. "This is what I have to work with."

Horace made an indignant noise. Most of the table shot him apologetic looks.

**\- by now, but the trainee had replied with no hesitation at all. He was conscious that all of the other trainers were watching with considerable interest. It was a natural reaction. Trainees always enjoyed seeing somebody else being berated for a mistake. It tended to draw attention away from their own deficiencies.**

**"What's going on here, Paul?"**

Understanding dawned in Rodney's eyes and he glanced at Horace, who grimaced. Paul had been a friend of Horace's for several months in Battleschool.

**Sir Morton, the assistant drillmaster, sounded none too pleased with all this discussion. He'd originally ordered the senior cadet to reprimand the trainee for his lack of attention.**

"Oh, for the love of -"

"Dear..."

**That reprimand should have been delivered by now and the matter ended. Instead, the class was being disrupted. Senior Cadet Paul came to attention.**

**"Sir, the trainee _says_ he performed the sequence," he replied. Horace was about to reply to the implication obvious in the emphasis the senior cadet placed on the words _says._ Then he thought better of it and shut his mouth firmly.**

**That reprimand should have been delivered by now and the matter ended. Instead, the class was being disrupted. Senior Cadet Paul came to attention.**

**"Sir, the trainee _says_ he performed the sequence," he replied. Horace was about to reply to the implication obvious in the emphasis the senior cadet placed on the words _says._ Then he thought better of it and shut his mouth firmly.**

"Now if you'd just teach Will..." Halt started, and Will pouted in his old master's direction.

Lady Pauline and Alyss exchanged smiles.

**"Just a moment." Paul and Sir Morton looked around, a little surprised. They hadn't seen Sir Rodney approaching. Around them, the other trainees came to stiff attention. Sir Rodney was held in awe by all members of Battleschool, particularly the newer ones.**

Rodney was somewhat mollified.

**Morton didn't quite come to attention, but he straightened a little, squaring his shoulders.**

**"Horace bit his lip in an agony of concern. He could see the prospect of dismissal from Battleschool looming before him. First, he seemed to have alienated the three second-year cadets who were making his life a misery. Then he had drawn the unwelcome attention of Senior Cadet Paul and Sir Morton. Now this—the Battlemaster himself. And to make matters worse, he had no idea what he had done wrong. He searched his memory and he could distinctly remember performing the sequence as it had been called.**

"I should hope so -" Halt started.

_"Dear..."_

Halt shut up.

Will stared.

**"Do you remember the sequence, Cadet Horace?" said the Battlemaster.**

**The cadet nodded emphatically, then, realizing that this wasn't regarded as an acceptable response to a question from a senior officer, he said:**

**"Yes, sir. Sequence five, sir."**

**That was the second time he had identified the sequence, Rodney noted.**

**He would have been willing to bet that not one of the other cadets could have said which sequence from the drill manual they had just completed. He doubted that the senior cadets would have been any better informed.**

Halt made a disgusted noise in his throat. Rodney, indignant, opened his mouth to defend his cadets, but Arald drove an elbow into Rodney's ribs with enough force to cause the other man to wince and rub his new injury.

**Sir Morton went to say something, but Rodney held up a hand to stop him.**

Arald raised an eyebrow in Rodney's direction. Rodney responded by kicking his friend lightly under the table.

King Duncan rubbed his forehead. _This_ was who he entrusted Redmont to?

**Sir Morton went to say something, but Rodney held up a hand to stop him.**

**"Perhaps you could repeat it for us now," he said, he stern voice giving no hint of the growing interest he was feeling in this recruit. He gestured to the practice post.**

**"Take your position. Calling the cadence . . . begin!"**

**Horace performed the sequence flawlessly, calling the strokes as he went.**

**"Thrust! Side cut! Backhand side! Overhand! Overhand backhand!"**

**The drill sword thudded into the leather padding in strict timing. The rhythm was perfect. The execution of the strokes was faultless. But this time, Rodney noticed, there was no additional stroke. The lightning-fast reverse side cut didn't appear. He thought he knew why. Horace was concentrating on getting the sequence correct this time. Previously, he had been acting instinctively.**

King Duncan's eyes gleamed with pride as he grinned at his son-in-law. Horace ducked his head in embarrassment and smiled a little at the table.

**"Perhaps you could repeat it for us now," he said, he stern voice giving no hint of the growing interest he was feeling in this recruit. He gestured to the practice post.**

**"Take your position. Calling the cadence . . . begin!"**

**Horace performed the sequence flawlessly, calling the strokes as he went.**

**"Thrust! Side cut! Backhand side! Overhand! Overhand backhand!"**

**The drill sword thudded into the leather padding in strict timing. The rhythm was perfect. The execution of the strokes was faultless. But this time, Rodney noticed, there was no additional stroke. The lightning-fast reverse side cut didn't appear. He thought he knew why. Horace was concentrating on getting the sequence correct this time. Previously, he had been acting instinctively.**

**Sir Karel, attracted by Sir Rodney's intervention into a standard drill session,** **strolled through the ranks of trainees standing by their practice posts. His eyebrows arched a question at Sir Rodney.**

"Ah, the standard Redmont expression strikes again," King Duncan quipped.

Everyone from Redmont promptly arched their eyebrows at the King, who promptly burst out laughing.

**As a senior knight, he was entitled to such informality. The Battlemaster held up a hand again. He didn't want anything to break Horace's attention right now. But he was glad Karel was here to witness what he was sure would happen.**

**"Again," he said, in the same stern voice and, once again, Horace went through the sequence. As he finished, Rodney's voice cracked like a whip.**

"An apt analogy," Horace joked. Rodney pretended to scowl.

**"Again."**

**And again Horace performed the fifth sequence. This time, as he finished, Rodney snapped: "Sequence three!"**

**"Thrust! Thrust! Backstep! Cross parry! Shield block! Side cut!" Horace called as he performed the moves.**

**Now Rodney could see that the boy was moving lightly on his toes, the sword a flickering tongue that danced out and in and across. And without realizing it, Horace was calling the cadence for the moves nearly half as quickly again as the drillmaster had been.**

"How could you not realize that?" Jenny asked, confused. Horace just shrugged.

"I just called it at a comfortable pace," he confessed. "I didn't really think about comparing it to the drillmaster's cadence."

**Karel caught Rodney's eye. He nodded appreciatively. But Rodney wasn't finished yet. Before Horace had time to think, he called the fifth sequence again and the boy responded.**

**"Thrust! Side cut! Backhand side! Overhand! Overhand backhand!"**

**"Backhand side!" snapped Sir Rodney instantly and, in response, almost of its own will, Horace's sword flickered in that extra deadly move. Sir Rodney heard the small sounds of surprise from Morton and Karel. They realized the significance of what they had seen. Senior Cadet Paul, perhaps understandably, wasn't quite so fast to grasp it. As far as he was concerned, the trainee had responded to an extra order from the Battlemaster. He'd done it well, admittedly, and he certainly seemed to know which end of the sword was which.**

"Was that _ever_ in question?" Will snarked automatically.

Rodney looked over at Horace, who was still rather pink in the face at all the attention he was getting.

"No." He responded quietly.

**But that was all the cadet had seen.**

**"Rest!" Sir Rodney ordered, and Horace allowed the sword point to drop to the dust, hand on the pommel, standing feet apart with the sword hilt centered against his belt buckle, in the parade rest position.**

**"Now, Horace," said the Battlemaster quietly, "do you remember adding that backhand side cut to the sequence the first time?"**

"Couldn't you have just asked him that to begin with? It would have been a lot simpler," wondered Jenny.

"That would have defeated the purpose, Jen," Gilan explained patiently.

**Horace frowned, then understanding dawned in his eyes. He wasn't sure, but now that the Battlemaster had prompted his memory, he thought that maybe he had.**

**"Uh . . . yes, sir. I think so. I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to. It just sort of . . . happened."**

Appreciative mutters from all the swordsmen in the room. Horace went from pink to red.

**Rodney glanced quickly at his drillmasters. He could see that they understood the significance of what had happened here. He nodded at them, passing a silent message that he wanted nothing made of this — yet.**

"Believe me, I had no clue," Horace reassured them.

The skin around Rodney's eyes tightened.

**"Well, no harm done. But pay attention for the rest of the period and just perform the strokes Sir Karel calls for, all right?"**

**Horace came to attention. "Yes, sir." He snapped his eyes toward the drillmaster. "Sorry, sir!" he added, and Karel dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand.**

**"Pay closer attention in the future." Karel nodded to Sir Rodney, sensing that the Battlemaster wanted to be on his way. "Thank you, sir. Permission to continue?"**

**Sir Rodney nodded assent. "Carry on, drillmaster." He began to turn away, then, as if he'd remembered something else, he turned back, and added casually, "Oh, by the way, could I see you in my quarters after classes are dismissed this evening?"**

"Very subtle," Halt said sarcastically.

"Halt, come on." Horace started, sounding a bit irritated. Yes, knights were essentially the opposite of Rangers, but was all this really necessary?

Halt took the hint.

**"Of course, sir," said Karel, equally casually, knowing that Sir Rodney wanted to discuss this phenomenon, but didn't want Horace to be aware of his interest.**

**"Sir Rodney strolled slowly back to the Battleschool headquarters. Behind him, he heard Karel's preparatory orders, then the repetitive _thud, thud, thud-thud-thud_ of wood on leather padding began once more.**

"And I think that's enough," Will said, closing the book and setting it down in front of him. "Evanly - Cassie - "

"I'll read the next chapter in the morning," Cassandra answered for him, concealing a yawn. "Until then, I think we all need some sleep."


	13. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra reads Chapter Twelve of Ruins of Gorlan. Laughter (and a few feels) ensue.

The group had assembled after a good night's rest (for most - Horace seemed to be jumping at shadows as if he expecting Alda, Bryn, and Jerome to jump out at him, and Rodney seemed to be having difficulty shaking off old memories as well), ate a hearty breakfast courtesy of Jenny (Horace, once again, heard 'Kurokuma' from all directions) and sat back down to read.

"Cassie, we're back to you." Horace told his wife, passing her the book from Will.

Cassie accepted with a grin and started reading.

**Halt examined the target Will had been shooting at, and nodded.**

**"Not bad at all," he said. "Your shooting is definitely improving."**

"Was that a _compliment,_ Halt?" Baron Arald asked incredulously, trying (and failing) not to grin.

Halt glared at him. He'd been doing that a lot, lately. It was starting to loose its effectiveness.

**Will couldn't help grinning. That was high praise indeed from Halt.**

"Do you know sir, I think it _was."_ Sir Rodney started.

"Boys, please. Your inner teenager is showing." King Duncan deadpanned, to an uproar of laughter.

Cassandra coughed.

 **Halt saw the expression and immediately added, "With more practice** \- "There's that word again," Gilan said mock-wisely - **a lot more practice - you might even achieve mediocrity."**

Crowley let out a breath in exasperation. "Really, Halt?" He said, but he sounded amused.

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Arrogance and ego are deadly poisons. Best to nip them in the bud before they take root."

"I think you got your gardening metaphors mixed up again, dear." Lady Pauline put in mildly.

Will snorted with laughter.

"Don't snort, Will. You're not Tug." Alyss admonished, smiling. Will sent her a pouting look.

**Will wasn't absolutely sure what mediocrity was, but he sensed that it wasn't good.**

Baron Arald gave him an incredulous stare.

Will made a defensive noise in his throat. "I fell asleep during that lesson!"

Horace choked on his laughter.

"And I wasn't the only one," Will added, mock-glaring at Horace.

Baron Arald cradled his head in one hand.

**The grin faded and Halt dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand.**

**"That's enough shooting for now. Let's go," he said and set off, striding down the narrow path through the forest.**

Crowley, Gilan, and Will all exchanged knowing (and for Gilan and Crowley, excited) looks.

**"Where are we going?" Will asked, half-running to keep up with the Ranger's longer strides.**

**Halt looked up at the trees above him.**

**"Why does this boy ask so many questions?" he asked the trees.**

"Why do you ask trees questions?" Crowley countered good-naturedly. "Besides, didn't you say earlier that inquisitiveness was a good quality in a Ranger?"

Halt scowled at him.

**Naturally, they didn't answer.**

"I should hope not," Jenny muttered. Gilan laughed. Will rolled his eyes.

**They walked for an hour before they came to a small collection of buildings buried deep in the forest.**

There was a collective noise of recognition from the Rangers at the table.

**Will was aching to ask more questions. But he'd learned by now that Halt wasn't going to answer them, so he held his tongue and bided his time.**

Halt snorted explosively. "That'll be the day..."

**Sooner or later, he knew, he'd learn why they'd come here.**

Will rested his head against the table for a moment. Back to fifteen-year-old Will being an idiot, it seemed.

**Halt led the way up to the largest of the ramshackle huts, then stopped, signaling for Will to do likewise.**

**"Hullo, Old Bob!" he called.**

Gilan leaned forward, grinning. Will shot him a sulky glare. Horace raised a questioning eyebrow.

**Will heard someone moving inside the hut, then a wrinkled, bent figure appeared in the doorway. His beard was long and matted and a dirty white color. He was almost completely bald. As he moved toward them, grinning and nodding a greeting to Halt, Will caught his breath. Old Bob smelled like a stable. And a none-to-clean one at that.**

Crowley bit back a snigger. Old Bob was a faithful ally of the Rangers, but Rangers were a sarcastic bunch, and harmless jibes were often appreciated. Old Bob was not, however, here, so he refrained.

Gilan did not.

**"Morning to you, Ranger!" said Old Bob. "Who's this you've brung to see me?"**

**He looked keenly at Will. The eyes were bright and very alert, despite his dirty, unkempt appearance.**

Not unlike Ranger horses, Horace reflected. Not that Ranger horses were dirty, but they weren't exactly _sleek_ , either.

**"This is Will, my new apprentice," said Halt. "Will, this is Old Bob."**

**"Good morning, sir," said Will politely. The old man cackled.**

"What was it with you and 'sir'?" Halt wondered in mild exasperation. Will just shrugged.

**"Calls me sir! Hear that, Ranger, calls me sir! Make a fine Ranger, this one will!"**

"He was right about that."

Will went very red and hurriedly resumed reading.

**Will smiled at him. Dirty as he might be, there was something likeable about Old Bob - perhaps it was the fact that he seemed to be in no way overawed by Halt.**

Halt raised an eyebrow in Will's direction.

Will just grinned in response.

**Will couldn't remember seeing anyone speaking to the grim-faced Ranger in quite this familiar tone before. Halt grunted impatiently.**

**"Are they ready?" he asked. The old man cackled again and nodded several times.**

**"Ready they are indeed!" he said. "Step this way and see them."**

**"He led them to the back of the hut, where a small paddock was fenced off. At the far side, there was a lean-to shed. Just a roof and supporting post. No walls. Old Bob let out a piercing whistle that made Will jump.**

**"There they are, see?" he said, pointing to the lean-to.**

**Will looked and saw two small horses trotting across the yard to greet the old man. As they came closer, he realized that one was a horse, the other was a pony.**

Will glanced worriedly across at Crowley, who waved a hand. Will nodded and dropped his gaze, trusting the Corps Commandant to intervene if the book came too close to revealing anything too secret.

"Are these the horses that you got from the Temujai?" Horace asked Halt innocently.

King Duncan pretended not to hear a thing.

**But both were small, shaggy animals, nothing like the fierce, sleek battlehorses that the Baron and his knights rode to war.**

"Not at all," Gilan agreed amicably, then grinned ferociously. "They're much better."

The knights present made the expecting indignant noises, even though they all knew perfectly well that Gilan was entirely correct.

**The larger of the two trotted immediately to Halt's side. He patted its neck and handed it an apple from a bin close by the fence. The horse crunched it gratefully. Halt leaned forward and said a few words into its ear. The horse tossed its head and neighed, as if it was sharing some private joke with the Ranger.**

Lady Pauline raised an eyebrow. Halt tried to look innocent and failed miserably.

**The pony waited by Old Bob until he had given it an apple to crunch as well. Then it turned one large, intelligent eye on Will.**

**"This 'un's called Tug," said the old man. "He looks about your size, don't he?"**

"Shut up, Gilan," Will said preemtively.

"I didn't say anything!" The tall Ranger protested.

"You were thinking it," Will retorted.

**He passed the rope bridle to Will, who took it and looked into the horse's eyes. He was a shaggy little beast. His legs were short, but sturdy. His body was barrel shaped. His mane and tail were ragged and unbrushed. All in all, as horses went, he wasn't a very impressive sight, thought Will.**

"You'll change your tune soon enough," Crowley promised.

"Already know what happened, Crowley," Will grumbled.

**He'd always dreamt of the horse he would one day ride into battle: in those dreams, the horse was tall and majestic. It was a fierce and jet black, combed and brushed until it shone like black armor.**

Will actually groaned aloud at that, much to the amusement of the others.

**The horse almost seemed to sense what he was thinking and butted its head gently against his shoulder.**

**_I may not be very big,_ its eyes seemed to say, _but I might just surprise you._**

"Understatement of the century," Will said firmly, remembering the race against Sandstorm in Arridia, his ride to Macindaw when Halt was wounded, and several other time when the little horse had saved him with previously unknown speed and endurance. _  
_

**"Well," said Halt. "What do you think of him?" He was fondling the other horse's soft nose. They were obviously old friends. Will hesitated. He didn't want to offend anyone.**

**"He's sort of . . . small," he said finally.**

**"So are you," Halt pointed out. Will couldn't think of an answer to that.**

"You were an apprentice. You weren't ready to think," Halt informed him bluntly.

"There it is. I was waiting," Will retorted drily.

Halt frowned. Was he really becoming that predictable?

**Old Bob wheezed with laughter.**

**"He ain't no battlehorse, are he, boy?" he asked.**

**"Well . . . no, he isn't," Will said awkwardly. He liked Bob and he felt any criticism of the pony might be taken personally. But Old Bob simply laughed again.**

"Old Bob's rather hard to offend," Crowley put in.

**"But he'll run any of those fine fancy-looking battlehorses into the ground!" he said proudly. "He's a strong 'un. He'll keep going all day, long after them fancy horses have laid down and died."**

**"Will looked at the shaggy little animal doubtfully.**

**"I'm sure he will," he said politely.**

**Halt leaned against the paddock fence.**

**"Why don't you see?" he suggested. "You're fast on your feet. Turn him loose and see if you can capture him again."**

"You were just complimented by Halt. Run for your life." Gilan advised him jokingly.

"Halt?" Will asked, looking over at the old Ranger.

Halt met his gaze questioningly.

"You're a terrible person."

**Will sensed the challenge in the Ranger's voice. He dropped the rope bridle. The horse, as if realizing that this was some sort of test, skipped lightly away into the center of the small enclosure. Will ducked under the fence rails and walked softly toward the pony. He held out his hand invitingly. "Come on, boy," he said. "Stand still there."**

**He reached out his hand for the bridle and the little horse suddenly wheeled away. It shied to one side, then the other, the sidestepped neatly around Will and danced backward out of reach.**

**He tried again.**

**Again the horse evaded him easily. Will was beginning to feel foolish.**

Horace seemed to be enjoying this rather too much, Will felt.

**He advanced on the horse and it backed away, moving closer and closer to one of the corners. Then, just when Will thought he had it, it nimbly danced to one side and was away again.**

**Will lost his temper now and ran after it.**

"Idiot."

"Shut up, Gilan."

**The horse whinnied in amusement and romped easily out of his reach. It was enjoying this game.**

**And so it went. Will would approach, the horse would duck and dodge and escape. Even in the close confines of the small paddock, he couldn't reach it.**

**He stopped. He was conscious of the fact that Halt was watching him carefully.**

"As per usual," Will acknowledged.

**He thought for a moment or two. There must be a way to do it. He'd never catch a horse as light on its feet and fast-moving as this one. There must be another way . . .**

**His gaze fell on the bin of apples outside the fence. Quickly, he ducked under the rail and seized an apple. Then he went back into the paddock and stood stock-still, holding the apple out.**

**"Come on, boy," he said.**

**Tug's ears shot up. He liked apples. He also thought he like this boy—he played this game well.**

The non-Rangers leaned in despite themselves. So now they could hear the horse's thoughts too?

**Tossing his head approvingly, he trotted forward and took the apple delicately. Will seized hold of the bridle and the pony crunched the apple. If a horse could be said to look blissful, this one did.**

**Will looked up and saw Halt nodding approval.**

**"Well thought out," said the Ranger. Old Bob elbowed the gray-cloaked man in the ribs.**

**"Clever boy, that!" he cackled. "Clever _and_ polite! That 'un'll make a good team with Tug, won't he?"**

"You have no idea," Halt said unexpectedly.

Will actually jumped in surprise, then flushed bright red and grinned down at the table. Alyss smiled and gave her husband a peck on the cheek.

He got a lot redder after that.

**Will patted the shaggy neck and the pricked-up ears. He looked now at the old man.**

**"Why do you call him Tug?" he asked.**

**Instantly, Will's arm was nearly torn from its socket as the pony jerked its head back.**

Everyone (Halt excepted) laughed. Including Will.

**Will staggered, then regained his balance. Old Bob's braying laugh rang out around the clearing.**

**"See if you can guess!" he said delightedly.**

**His laughter was infectious and Will couldn't help smiling himself. Halt glanced up at the sun, which was fast disappearing behind the trees that fringed Old Bob's clearing and the meadows beyond.**

**"Take him over to the lean-to and Bob can show you how to groom him and look after his tack," he said, then added to the old man, "We'll stay with you tonight, Bob, if that's not inconvenient?"**

**The old horse handler nodded his head in pleasure. "I'll be glad of the company, Ranger. Sometimes I spend so much time with the horses that I start to think I'm one myself." Unconsciously, he dipped a hand into the apple barrel and selected one, absentmindedly crunching into it—much as Tug had done a few minutes earlier.**

"Good thing you showed up when you did, then." Arald observed wryly.

**Halt watched him, one eyebrow raised.**

**"We might be just in time," he observed dryly. "Then, tomorrow, we'll see if Will can ride Tug as well as catch him," he said, guessing as he said it that his apprentice would get very little sleep that night.**

"Mind reader," Will grumbled.

Halt smirked in the Halt way of smirking.

**He was right. Old Bob's tiny cabin had only two rooms, so after their supper, Halt stretched out on the floor by the fireplace and Will bedded down in the warm, clean straw of the barn, listening to the gentle whuffling sounds of the two horses. The moon rose and fell as he lay wide awake, wondering and worrying over what the next day might bring. Would he be able to ride Tug? He'd never ridden a horse. Would he fall off the minute he tried?**

"Yes," Horace and Will answered simultaneously, then they glanced at each other and immediately cracked up.

**Would he be hurt? Worse still, would he embarrass himself?**

"Just your pride," Gilan answered cheerfully.

"And most of my ribs," Will complained. He seemed to be doing more of that than usual.

**He liked Old Bob and didn't want to look foolish in front of him. Nor in front of Halt, he realized, with a little surprise. He was still wondering when Halt's good opinion had come to mean so much to him when he finally fell asleep.**

Gilan smiled knowingly. "It sort of sneaks up on you, doesn't it?" He agreed.

Will, surprising everyone, shook his head.

"It's always there, really. Just a matter of when you notice it."

Halt blinked. Inside, he was smiling.

If his eyes were a touch brighter than usual, nobody noticed.

* * *


	14. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyss reads Chapter Thirteen of Ruins of Gorlan. The desire to murder somebody returns.

"Who's reading next, again?" Cassandra asked, looking up from the book.

"That would be me," Alyss said softly. Cassandra grinned and passed the book over to her friend.

"All yours, then."

Alyss answered with a smile and began to read.

**"So, you saw it. What did you think?" Sir Rodney asked. Karel reached across and poured himself another tankard from the jug of beer that was on the table between them.**

Horace managed not to roll his eyes at the image of two respected Redmond knights gossiping over a jug of beer.

 **Rodney's quarters were simple enough — even Spartan when it was remembered that he was head of the Battleschool. Battle masters in other fiefs took advantage of the position to surround themselves with the trappings of luxury**  — "Not all of them," Gilan, indignant on his father's behalf —  **but that wasn't Rodney's style.**

"You have a style?" Arald asked of his friend, exaggerating his surprise.

"It's news to me too," Rodney responded with a shrug.

**His room was simply furnished, with a pinewood table for a desk and six straight-backed pine chairs around it.**

**There was a fireplace in the corner, of course. Rodney might have preferred to live in a simple style, but that didn't mean he enjoyed discomfort**  — Arald bit back a grin at some old memory —  **and winters in Castle Redmont were cold.**

"Winters in general tend to be that way, I've heard," Halt countered dryly, to general amusement.

**Right now it was late summer and the thick stone walls of the castle buildings served to keep the interiors cool. When the cold weather came, those same thick walls would retain the heat of the fire. On one wall, a large bay window looked out over the Battleschol's drill field.**

"All the better to lord over us common folk," Horace joked.

"Oi!" Rodney objected, as Arald cracked up.

 **Facing the window, on the opposite wall, was a doorway, screened by thick curtain, leading to Rodney's sleeping quarters — a simple soldier's bed and more wooden furniture. It had been a little more ornate when his wife Antoinette was still alive** — Rodney's eyes misted over at the mention of his first wife, and Arald gave his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze —  **but she had died some years previously and the rooms were now unmistakably masculine in character, without any item in them that wasn't functional and with an absolute minimum of decoration.**

Crowley was laughing at this for some reason. As the others looked at him quizzically, he shut up abruptly. A suspicious Will looked over at Halt to see him returning silently to his seat.

Will was suddenly hard-pressed to keep a straight face.

**"I saw it," Karel agreed. "Not sure that I believed it, but I saw it."**

"…how does that even work?" Gilan wondered aloud. "If you saw it, that means it's true, doesn't it?"

"Clearly, you've never been to Macindaw," Will muttered.

Horace laughed at the memories. "Malcolm really is something, I'll give him that."

"Who's this Malcolm?" King Duncan asked curiously, looking from Horace to Will in confusion.

"It'll be in one of the other books, I'll bet." Horace said, gesturing to the stack. "You'll know him when you read about him."

Alyss coughed politely.

"Go ahead, Alyss." Will said hastily, ignoring Horace's knowing snigger.

**"You saw it only once," said Rodney. "He was doing it constantly throughout the session — and I'm convinced that he was doing it unconsciously."**

**"As fast as the one I saw?" Karel asked. Rodney nodded emphatically.**

**"If anything, faster. He was adding an extra stroke to the routines but staying in time with the call." He hesitated, then finally said what they were both thinking. "The boy is a natural."**

Horace looked surprised. "I am?"

Cassandra just rolled her eyes. "Yes, dear. Please continue, Alyss."

Alyss smiled and obliged.

**Karel inclined his head thoughtfully. Based on what he'd seen, he wasn't prepared to dispute the fact. And the Battlemaster had been watching the boy for some time during the session, he knew. But naturals were few and far between. They were those unique people for whom the skill of swordplay moved into an entirely different dimension. It become not so much a skill as an instinct to them.**

"How true that is," Gilan said wistfully.

**They were the ones who became the champions.**

Will coughed something that sounded suspiciously like 'Sunrise Warrior'.

Halt muttered something that sounded like 'The Knight of the Oakleaf".

**The sword masters. Experienced warriors like Sir Rodney and Sir Karel were expert swordsmen — "and the bane of Skandians everywhere," Arald muttered, and Rodney snickered — but naturals took the skill to a higher plane. It was as if for them, the sword in their hand became a true extension not just of their bodies, but of their personalities as well. The sword seemed to act in instant communion and harmony wit the natural's mind, acting even faster than conscious thought.**

"I believe the word for that is instinct," Halt deadpanned, breaking the monologue of sorts.

**Naturals were possessed of unique skills in timing and balance and rhythm.**

**And as such, they presented a heavy responsibility to those who were entrusted with their training. For those natural skills and abilities had to be carefully nurtured and developed in a long-term training program to allow the warrior, already highly proficient as a matter of course, to develop his true potential for genius.**

Halt thought Horace was looking a little too pleased with himself.

"Don't worry, Halt," Horace called across the table, "my ego will get deflated soon enough, if I recall correctly."

Halt found himself wanting his bow and arrows instead.

**"You're sure?" Karel said eventually and Rodney nodded again, his gaze out the window. In his mind he was seeing the boy training, seeing those extra flickers of lightning-fast movement.**

Horace was rather pink again.

**"I'm sure," he said simply. "We'll have to let Wallace know that he'll have another pupil next semester."**

"What happened next semester? The Morgarath debacle, right? The timing's a little...fuzzy." Horace asked, turning to Will.

His friend shook his head. "No, Morgarath was a year later. Next semester started…a few months after the boar hunt, wasn't it?"

Horace's grin turned savage. "Oh, yes. Of course."

Rodney was supressing a smirk. He had an idea what Horace might be thinking of. So did Halt.

 **Wallace was the sword master at the Redmont Battleschool. He was the one who had the responsibility for adding the final polish to the basic skills that Karel and the others taught. In the event of an outstanding trainee — as Horace obviously was** — Cassandra beamed and squeezed her husband's shoulder — **he would give them private instruction in advanced techniques. Karel curled his bottom lip thoughtfully as he thought about the time frame Rodney had suggested.**

**"Not until then?" he said. The next semester was almost three months away. "Why not get him started straightaway? From what I saw, he's already mastered the basic stuff." But Rodney shook his head.**

"Dammit, sir." Horace sulked.

Rodney just shrugged.

 **"We haven't really assessed his personality yet." He said. "He seems a nice enough lad"**  — "Not back then I wasn't," Horace mumbled ruefully. Will had to laugh.

"That's true. Remember Harvest Day?" He agreed.

Horace groaned in embarrassment. "God, don't remind me. That was embarrassing."

**" — but you never know. If he turns out to be a misfit of some kind, I don't want to give him the sort of advanced instruction that Wallace can provide."**

"Wise move," Halt admitted.

Will couldn't help but agree. "I don't think I would have made it past the Harvest Day Festival if you had."

"I wasn't that bad," Horace muttered.

**Once he thought of it, Karel agreed with the Battlemaster. After all, if it should turn out that Horace had to be disqualified from Battleschool because of some other failing, it might be embarrassing, not to mention dangerous, if he were already on the road to being a highly trained swordsman. Disqualified trainees often reacted with resentment.**

Rodney remembered the dismissal of Alda, Bryn, and Jerome. Resentment indeed.

Dangling the threat of Horace, Will, and Halt over their heads had made them  _much_  more cooperative.

**"And another thing," Rodney added. "Let's keep this to ourselves and tell Morton the same. I don't want the boy hearing any word of this yet. It might make hi cocky and that could be dangerous for him."**

"Me? Cocky?" Horace protested, just as Halt raised an eyebrow. "Him? Cocky?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "A precaution, a precaution. And Halt, just a moment ago you were saying it was a good idea."

Halt merely grunted.

**"That's true enough," Karel agreed. He finished the last of his beer in two quick drafts, set his tankard down on the table and stood. "Well, I'd better be getting along. I've got reports to finish."**

**"Who hasn't?" the Battlemaster said with some feeling, and the two old friends exchanged rueful grins. "I never knew there was so much paper involved in running a Battleschool." Karel snorted in derision.**

**"Sometimes I think we should forget the weapons training and just throw all the paper at the enemy — bury them in it."**

"Again, I invite you both to try running a kingdom sometime."

**He gave an informal salute, just touching one finer to his forehead — that was in keeping with his seniority. Then he turned and headed for the door. He paused as Rodney added one last point to their discussion.**

**"Keep an eye on the boy, of course," he said. "But don't let him become aware of it."**

**"Of course," Karel replied. "We don't want him to start thinking there's something special about him."**

"Believe me, there wasn't a snowflake's chance in Arridia of that." Horace said with feeling.

Cassandra's lips thinned.

**At that moment, there was no chance that Horace would think there was anything special about him — at least, not in any positive sense. What he did feel was that there was something about him that attracted trouble.**

Rodney was scowling again.

**Word had gone around about the strange scene at the training ground. His classmates, not understanding what had happened, all assumed that Horace had somehow annoyed the Battlemaster and now waited for the inevitable retribution. They knew that the rule during the first semester was that, when one member of a class made a mistake, the entire class paid for it.**

"Why is that?" Jenny asked, looking around. Will looked over in interest too. He'd never understood that.

"It promotes unit-wide thinking and forces the cadets to regard themselves as a part of a whole instead of an individual." Rodney responded instantly.

"And that's why I made you Battlemaster," Arald commented.

**As a result, the atmosphere in their dormitory had been strained, to say the least. Horace had finally made his way out of the room, intending to head for the river to escape the condemnation and blame he could feel from the others. Unfortunately, when he did so, he walked straight into the waiting arms of Alda, Bryn, and Jerome.**

Everyone at the table groaned.

**The three older boys had heard a garbled version of the scene at the practice yard. They assumed that Horace had been criticized for his sword work and decided to make him suffer for it.**

"When I want your help with discipline,  _I will ask for it."_  Rodney spat out furiously. "Trust me when I say  _that day will never come."_

"Easy, Rodney," Arald murmured quietly.

**However, they knew that their attentions would not necessarily meet with the approval of the Battleschool staff.**

"Putting it mildly," Rodney ground out from between gritted teeth. Cassandra swore bitterly.

**Horace, as a newcomer, had no way of knowing that this sort of systematic bullying as totally disapproval of by Sir Rodney and the other instructors. Horace simply assumed that was the way things were supposed to be and, not knowing any better, went along with it, allowing himself to be bullied and insulted.**

"You should have said something!" Cassandra cried.

Horace made a defeated shrugging motion.

Rodney was already mentally making plans to make the fact that bullying was not approved to first-year cadets. There wouldn't be any more repeats of this incident, if he had his say.

**It was for this reason that the three second-year cadets marched Horace to the riverside, where he had been heading anyway, and away from the sight of instructors. Here, they made him wade thigh-deep into the river, then stand to attention.**

**"Baby can't use his sword properly," said Alda.**

Halt let out an explosive snort. Horace was, surprisingly, grinning.

_Oh, the irony._

**Bryn took up the refrain. "Baby made the Battlemaster angry. Baby doesn't belong Battleschool. Babies shouldn't be given swords to play with."**

**"And yet," Rodney snarled "you —" here he used enough violent expletives that even Halt raised his eyebrows " — managed to slip through my net for two years."**

Horace shook his head. "Let it go, sir." He said quietly. Rodney looked at the boy in surprise, but shut his mouth.

Arald sighed unhappily. Rodney was a fiercely loyal soul, and was particularly vicious when it came to bullies.

**"Baby should throw stones instead," Jerome concluded the sarcastic litany.**

"I don't think they know what that word means." Will muttered. "That wasn't sarcastic, that was just mean."

**Horace hesitated, then glanced around. The riverbed was full of stones and he bent to get one. As he did so, his sleeve and the upper part of his jacket became soaked.**

**"Not a small stone, Baby," Alda said, smiling evilly at him. "You're a big baby, so you need a big stone."**

Horace looked away tears pricking at his eyes. Cassandra wrapped an arm around her husband's broad shoulders, shaking with rage.

"How dare they?" She hissed furiously.

**"A great big stone," Bryn added indicating with his hands that he wanted Horace to pick up a large rock. Horace looked around him and saw several larger pieces in the crystal-clear water. He bent and retrieved one of them. In doing so, he made a mistake.**

Will immediately paled, a thousand terrible scenarios running through his head of 'ways that could go wrong'.

**The rock he chose was easy to lift under the water, but as he brought it above the surface, he grunted with the weight of it.**

Rodney made a strangled snarling noise at this. Halt's eyes had a dangerous light to them, and Gilan's lips were a thin line.

"Oh, Horace." Jenny murmured.

**"Let's see it, Baby," Jerome said. "Hold it up."**

**Horace braced himself — the swiftly running current of the river made it difficult to keep his balance and hold the heavy rock at the same time — then he lifted it to chew height so his tormentors could see it.**

**"Right up, Baby," Alda commanded. "Right over your head."**

**Painfully**  — Will actually growled at the word —  **Horace obeyed. The rock was feeling heavier by the second, but he held it high above his head and the three boys were satisfied.**

"I should hope so, the —"

Cassandra could, apparently, out-curse Rodney when she was of a mind to.

King Duncan pretended not to hear any of it.

**"That's good, Baby," Jerome said, and Horace, with a relieved sigh, bean to let the rock down again.**

**"What are you doing?" demanded Jerome angrily. "I said that's good. So that's where I want the rock to stay."**

"Why don't I bash your heads in with it instead?" Horace suggested suddenly, making everyone jump. Such sentiments were completely out of character for Horace.

**Horace struggled and lifted the rock above his head once more, holding it at arm's length. Alda, Bryn, and Jerome nodded their approval.**

**"Now you can stay there," Alda told him, "while you count to five hundred. Then you can go back to the dormitory."**

Alyss, who had been silent except for her reading, felt a sudden need to interject her own opinion on exactly what Alda, Bryn, and Jerome could go do to themselves. Will stared in awe.

Lady Pauline smiled.

**"Start counting," Bryn ordered him, grinning at the idea.**

**"One, two, three…" began Horace, but they all shouted at him almost immediately.**

**"Not so fast, Baby! Nice and slowly. Start again."**

**"One…two…there…" Horace counted, and they nodded their approval.**

**"That's better. Now a nice slow count to five hundred and you can go." Alda told him.**

**"Don't try to fudge it, because we'll know," threatened Jerome. "And you'll be back here counting to one thousand."**

**"Like hell." Rodney stated.**

Halt thought they'd gotten off rather easy, after all they'd done.

Cassandra rounded on the Baron and Battlemaster of Redmont. "What happened to them?" She demanded. "Where are they now?"

"Cassie —" Horace started soothingly, but Cassandra interrupted him.

"Don't Cassie me, Horace. Not over this. Where are they now?"

Arald shrugged helplessly. "They were kicked out of the fief. Who knows what happened to them after that?"

Cassie look over her shoulder. "Dad —"

"Later, Cassie," King Duncan promised, voice thick with anger.

**Laughing among themselves, the three students headed back to their quarters. Horace remained midstream, arms trembling with the weight of the rock, tears of frustration and humiliations filling his eyes.**

Cassandra tightened her grip around Horace's shoulders. She was still shaking furiously.

Sir Rodney was glaring at the book as though he could will it to burst into flames.

 **Once, he lost his balance and fell full length in the water. After his heavy, sodden clothing made it all the harder to hold the rock above his head, but he kept at it. He couldn't be sure that they weren't concealed somewhere, watching him, and if they were, they'd made him pay for disobeying their instruct**  — Alyss's voice cracked at that point, and she had to take several deep breaths before she trusted herself to continue.

**…disobeying their instructions.**

**If this was the way of things, then so be it, he thought. But he promised himself that, first chance he got, he was going to make someone pay for the humiliation he was undergoing.**

Will and Horace exchanged vicious grins at this.

**Much later, clothes soaked, arms arching and a deep feeling of resentment burning in his heart, he crept back to his quarters. He was too late for the evening meal, but he didn't even care. He was too miserable to eat.**

Halt shook his head. "Now I know why you eat so much," he said softly.

"Actually, I've always been the one who empties the winter stores in the first few weeks," Horace said lightly.

Cassandra's grip tightened even further, and Horace couldn't help but wince.


	15. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Pauline reads Chapter Fourteen of Ruins of Gorlan. Secrets are preserved.

Rodney took the book from Alyss, following the sequence. He skimmed the page for a moment, then looked up. "I think a Ranger should read this chapter," he said diplomatically, passing it to Halt, who passed it to Lady Pauline.

**"Walk him around a little," said Halt.**

**Will glanced back at the shaggy pony, who watched him with intelligent eyes.**

**"Come on, boy," he said, and pulled on the halter.**

_"Not going to wo-ork…"_ Gilan sang joyfully. Will frowned at him.

"Again with the it already happened, Gil."

**Instantly, Tug braced his forelegs and refused to move. Will pulled harder on the rope, leaning back in his efforts to make the stubborn little pony move.**

"He's stronger than you are, you know…"

"Shut up, Gilan."

**Old Bob cackled with laughter.**

**"He be stronger than you!" he said.**

"Shut up, Gilan."

"I didn't say anything!" The offending Ranger protested, with a wide grin on his face that belied his claims of innocence.

Will was not moved.

"You were thinking."

**Will felt his ears reddening with embarrassment. He pulled harder. Tug twitched his ears and resisted. It was like trying to pull a house along.**

"He kind of is," Horace joked.

"As long as your grandma's giving the riding lessons…" Will murmured. All the former ward mates burst out laughing, much to the confusion of everyone else.

**"Don't look at him," Halt said softly. "Just take the rope and walk away from him. He'll follow."**

**Will tried it that way. He turned his back on Tug, seized the rope firmly and began walking. The pony trotted easily after him. Will looked at Halt and grinned.**

"I don't know what you were grinning about, it was my idea."

**The Ranger nodded his head toward the far fence of the paddock. Will glanced across and saw a small saddle, placed across the top rail of the fence.**

**"Saddle him up," said the Ranger.**

**Tug clip-clopped docilely across the fence. Will looped the reins around the fence rail and hefted the saddle across the pony's back. He bent down to fasten the girth straps of the saddle.**

"And somehow managed not to mess that up too —"

"Gilan, by Ergon's Tears I will shoot you."

Gilan shut up.

**"Pull them good and tight!" Old Bob advised him.**

**Finally, the saddle was firmly in position. Will looked eagerly at Halt. "Can I ride him now?" he asked.**

"Don't do it!" shouted Horace, and every Ranger present (excepting Halt, who merely raised an eyebrow, and Will, who buried his face in his arms again).

**The Ranger stroked his uneven beard thoughtfully before he answered. "If you feel that's a good idea, go ahead," he said finally.**

**Will hesitated for a moment. The phrase stirred a vague memory with him. But then eagerness overcame caution** — "You mean your common sense," Halt muttered — **and he put one foot in the stirrup and swung himself nimbly onto the pony's back. Tug stood, unmoving.**

"The calm before the storm," Horace said dryly. Will snorted.

"Don't snort, dear. You're not Tug," Alyss chided gently.

If Halt had been drinking coffee, he would have spat it out. He glanced suspiciously at his wife, who smiled serenely at him.

**"Get up!" Will said, drumming his heels against the pony's side.**

**For a moment, nothing happened. Then Will felt a small tremor of movement go through the pony's body.**

"And so it begins." Will said resignedly.

 **Suddenly, Tug arched his muscular little back and shot straight into the air, all four feet leaving the ground at the same time. He twisted violently to one side, came down on his front legs and kicked his rear legs high into the sky. Will salt neatly over the pony's ears, turned a complete somersault in the air** — Horace was stifling laughter at this — **and crashed back int the dirt. He picked himself up, rubbing his back.**

"Blaze was worse," Gilan claimed. Will looked up indignantly.

"Was not!"

"Was to."

"Was not!"

"Was to!"

"Boys, please." Lady Pauline intervened quietly.

It took a little longer for the rest of the table to stop laughing.

**Tug stood nearby, ears up, watching him intently.**

**_Now, why did you go and do a silly thing like that?_ ** **The eyes seemed to saw.**

"Oh by Gorlog, it's starting," Cassandra moaned dramatically.

Will stuck his tongue out at her. Horace looked half-amused, half-horrified.

Cassandra just laughed.

**Old Bob leaned against the fence, sides heaving with laughter. Will looked at Halt.**

**"What did I do wrong?" he asked.**

"You're learning," Halt noted mildly.

"Or maybe the fact that Tug just threw me off tipped me off to the fact that I may have made an error somewhere." Will snarked back automatically, then paled a little.

"Sorry, Halt," he apologized sheepishly. Halt just shrugged a little, brushing it off.

**Halt ducked under the fence rails and walked across to where Tug watching the two of them expectantly. He handed the bridle back to Will, then laid one hand on his shoulder.**

**"Nothing, if this were an ordinary hose," he said. "But Tug has been trained as a Ranger horse —"**

**"What's the difference?" Will interrupted angrily,**

"You have no idea," Will told his past-self sadly, then hastily apologized to Lady Pauline.

**…and Halt held his hand up for silence.**

**"The difference is, each Ranger horse has to be asked before a rider mounts him for the first time," said Halt. "They are trained that way so they can never be stolen."**

Crowley had a slightly dangerous look on his face. "If that leaves this room —" he started…

"Don't worry, Crowley." Arald reassured the Commandant quickly.

"Your secrets are safe with us," Rodney promised.

Crowley still looked worried and angry, but didn't protest further.

**Will scratched his head. "I've never heard of such a thing!" he said.**

**Old Bob smiled as he walked forward. "Not too many folk have," he said. "That's why Ranger horses never get stolen."**

"That's true," King Duncan mused.

**"Well," said Will, "what do you say to a Ranger horse before you mount him?"**

**Halt shrugged. "It varies from horse to horse. Each one responds to a different request." He gestured toward the larger horse. "My horse, for example —"**

Halt looked up in genuine alarm at his wife. "Pauline —" he started worriedly. Lady Pauline squeezed his fingers and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry."

 **"My horse, for example, responds to the words"** — here Lady Pauline merely cleared her throat and continued on, skipping neatly over the password. Halt looked relieved.

**"What sort of words are they?"**

**"They're Gallic. They mean** " — another clearing of the throat, this one slightly longer. **"His parents came from Gallica, you see," Halt explained. Then he turned to Old Bob. "What are the words for Tug here, Bob?"**

Will sent Lady Pauline a pleading look, and received a reassuring smile in return.

**Bob screwed up his eyes, pretending that he couldn't remember.**

Crowley snorted. "As if," he muttered.

**Then his face cleared.**

**"Oh, yes, I recall!" he said. "This 'un here, he needs to be asked,"** — Lady Pauline cleared her throat once more.

**"—afore you get on his back."**

Will repeated, and Bob shook his head. "Don't say it to me, youngster! Say it in the horse's ear!"

The Rangers chuckled.

**Feeling a little silly, and not at all sure that the others weren't having a joke at his expense, Will stepped forward and said softly in Tug's ear:**

Lady Pauline cleared her throat. Again.

**Tug whinnied softly. Will looked doubtfully at the two men, and Bob nodded encouragement.**

**"Go on! Climb on now! Young Tug won't harm 'ee now."**

"Won't harm you, maybe…" Horace muttered.

Will grinned.

**Very carefully, Will swung himself onto the pony's shaggy back once again. His back still ached from the previous attempt. He sat there a moment. Nothing happened. Then, he tapped his heels gently into Tug's ribs.**

**"Come on, boy," he said softly.**

**Tug's ears twitched up and he stepped forward at an easy walk.**

"And so it begins," Halt said softly, with a look at Will.

Will blushed red and stared at the table.

**Still cautious, Will let him walk around the paddock once or twice, then tapped again with his heels. Tug broke into a gentle rot. Will moved easily to the rhythm of the horse's movement and Halt looked on approvingly. The boy was an instinctive rider.**

Will's grin grew.

**The Ranger unclipped the short length of rope that held the paddock gate close and swung the gate wide open.**

**"Take him out, Will," he called, "and see what he can really do!"**

"You have no idea," Will murmured, smiling fondly at the thought of his little horse.

**"Obediently, Will turned the pony toward the gate and, as they passed through into the open ground beyond, tapped once more with his heels. He felt the muscular little body beneath him bunch momentarily, then Tug broke into a fast gallop.**

**The wind rushed past Will's ears as he leaned forward over the pony's neck, encouraging him to even greater speed. Tug's ears pricked upward in response and he went even faster than before.**

"That's Tug," Will said with quiet pride.

"Freedooooom!" Joked Gilan.

Jenny smiled.

**He was like the wind. His short legs were a blur of motion as he carried the boy at full speed toward the edge of the trees. Gently, not sure how the pony would react, Will applied pressure to the left hand rein.**

"Not as fast as Cropper." Crowley muttered, as a matter of pride.

Will flared up in instant defense of his horse. "He is too!"

At the same time, Halt responded, "Cropper couldn't beat a fat man with one leg and a picnic basket full of Jenny's pies."

Will let out a shocked laugh, then quickly clapped his hand over his mouth. Gilan showed no such restraint and simply roared with mirth.

**Instantly, Tug veered to the left, racing away from the trees at an angle. Will kept the gentle pressure on the rein until Tug was headed once again back toward the paddock. Will gasped in amazement as he saw how far they had come. Halt and Old Bob were tiny figures in the distance now. But they grew rapidly larger as Tug flew over the rough grass toward them.**

**A fallen log loomed in front of them and, before Will could make any effort to avoid it, Tug had gathered himself, steadied and leaped over the obstacle.**

Cheers around the table.

**Will let out a shout of excitement and the pony whinnied briefly in reply.**

**They were almost back to the paddock now and Will pulled gently on both reins. Instantly, Tug slowed to a canter, then a trot, finally coming down to walking pace Will maintained the pressure on the reins. He brought the pony to a standstill beside Halt. Tug tossed his shaggy head and whinnied again. Will leaned forward and patted the pony on the neck.**

**"He's terrific!" he said breathlessly. "He's as fast as the wind."**

"Faster, I think," Halt put in thoughtfully.

**Halt nodded gravely.**

"Oh, smile for once, Halt!" Cassandra chided, beaming.

"I do have a reputation to maintain, your majesty." Halt reminded her gravely.

Cassandra rolled her eyes.

"What reputation?" Horace muttered.

Halt turned his death stare on the princess's husband.

**Old Bob ducked his head in appreciation and leaned forward to pat the shaggy little pony in his turn. He had spent his life breeding, training and preparing the Ranger Corps' horses and this one ranked among the best he'd seen.**

"Fitting, really," King Duncan said thoughtfully.

 **"He'll keep that pace all day," he said fondly. "Run them fat battlehorses"** — "Hey!" — **"into the ground, this 'un will. Youngster rides him well, too, Ranger, don't 'e?"**

**"Halt stroked his beard. "Not too badly." he said.**

Arald shook his head. "You're a hard man, Halt."

Lady Pauline refrained from making the obvious innuendo there, as funny as it might have been.

**Bob was scandalized.**

"Scandalized! Scandalized!" Gilan cried dramatically, flinging his arms about dramatically. "Oops — sorry, Baron Arald…"

Rodney chuckled.

**"Not to badly? You're a hard man, Ranger!"**

Lady Pauline had to actually bite her tongue this time.

**"Youngster sat him light as a feather through that jump!" The old man looked up at Will, sitting astride the pony, and nodded in appreciation. "'E don't saw away at them reins like some do, neither. Got a light touch with a horse's soft mouth, 'e 'as."**

**Will grinned at the old horse trainer's praise. He snuck a quick glance at Halt, but the Ranger was as grave-faced as ever.**

**He never smiles, Will thought to himself.**

"Oh, ye of little faith." Horace lamented.

Halt glared.

**He went to dismount, then stopped himself hurriedly.**

**"Is there anything I should say to him before I get off?"**

**Bob laughed aloud. "No, youngster. Once said and young Tug here will remember — as long as it's you who's riding him."**

Horace rubbed his back ruefully.

**Relieved, Will climbed down. He stood beside the pony and Tug shoved him affectionately with his head. Will glanced at the apple barrel.**

**"Could I give him another?" he asked.**

Halt grunted. "You spoil that horse."

"You spoil yours," Will retorted.

**Halt nodded. "Just one more," he said. "But don't go making a habit out of it. He'll be too fat to run if you feed him all the time." Tug snorted loudly. Apparently, he and Halt were at odds over how many apples a pony should have in a day.**

**Will spent the rest of the day getting tips on riding technique and leaning how to look after and repair Tug's saddle and harness, as well as the finer points of caring for the little horse.**

**He brushed and curried the shaggy coat until it shone and Tug seemed to appreciate his efforts. Finally, worn-out, his arms aching with the effort, he had slumped to a seat on a hay bale.**

"Oh, don't do that." Gilan said hurriedly.

"Next time, tell me before I do it." Will grouched.

**Which, of course, had to be the exact moment when Halt walked into the stable.**

"Of course," Horace repeated dryly.

**"Come along," he said. "No time to be lolling around doing nothing. We'd best get moving if we're to be home before dark."**

Pauline paused in her reading to give her husband the look, and everyone laughed as Halt pointedly stared at a spot well away from her gaze.

**And, so saying, he tossed a saddle across the back of his horse. Will didn't bother to protest that he hadn't been "lolling around", as the Ranger put it. For a start, he knew it would be no use. And secondly, he was excited by the fact that they would be riding back to Halt's little cottage by the edge of the forest. It seemed that the two horses were to become a permanent part of their establishment. He realized now that Halt's horse had obviously been so before and that the Ranger had only been waiting until Will had shown his ability to ride and to bond with Tug before reclaiming him from his temporary home in Old Bob's stable.**

**The horses whinnied to each other from time to time as they trotted back through the dim green forest, for all the world as if they were carrying on their own conversation.**

"They were," Halt said flatly.

**Will was bursting with questions he wanted to ask. But, by now, he was wary of chattering too much in the Ranger's presence.**

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Halt." Alyss said.

**Finally, he could contain himself no longer.**

**"Halt?" he said experimentally.**

**The Ranger grunted. Will took that as a sign that he could continue speaking.**

**"What's your horse's name?" the boy asked.**

**Halt looked down at him. His horse was slightly larger than Tug, although nowhere near the size of the giant battlehorses kept in the Baron's stable.**

Rodney raised his eyes to heaven.

**"I believe it's Abelard," he said.**

"You believe?" Crowley asked incredulously. "What, did you forget?"

**"Abelard?" Will repeated.**

"You do that a lot, you know that?" Halt complained.

Will grinned devilishly.

Alyss elbowed him (somewhat) gently.

**"What kind of a name is that?"**

**"It's Gallic," said the Ranger, obviously putting an end to the conversation.**

"And that is all I have to say about me," Gilan said, mimicking Halt. Everyone else laughed, and Halt glared (even though he was mildly impressed as Gilan's mimicry skills — perhaps he'd gotten lessons from the Skandian duty ship he'd gone traipsing off to Arridia with).

**They rode a few kilometers father in silence. The sun was lowering over the trees, and their shadows were long and distorted on the ground in front of them. Will studied Tug's shadow. The pony seemed to have enormously long legs and a ridiculously short body.**

"Shadow distortion," Halt answered in a bored tone, then jumped slightly as Lady Pauline kicked him under the table.

Crowley sniggered.

**He wanted to call Halt's attention to it, but thought that such a frivolous observation would not impress the Ranger. Instead, he summoned the courage to ask another question that had been occupying his thoughts for some days.**

**"Halt?" he said again.**

**The Ranger sighed briefly.**

"Uh-oh," Gilan muttered.

**"What now?" he asked. His tone definitely did not encourage further conversation. However, Will pressed on.**

**"Remember you told me how a Ranger was responsible for Morgarath's defeat?"**

**"Mmmm," Halt grunted.**

**"Well, I just just wondering, what was the Ranger's name?" the boy asked.**

**"Names aren't important," Halt said. "I really can't remember."**

"Memory loss is a symptom of old age, Halt," Crowley said innocently. Halt was glaring again.

"You're older than I am, Crowley," he responded waspishly.

**"Was it you?" Will continued, sure that it was. Halt turned that level, unsmiling gaze on him again.**

And again.

**"I said, names aren't important," he repeated. There was a silence between them for some seconds, then the Ranger said: "Do you know what is important?"**

"Supper," Horace answered immediately. Cassandra elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow! Cassie!" Horace complained, looking wounded (in more ways than one).

"We have just eaten breakfast, dear."

Will shook his head.

**"Supper is important!" said the Ranger.**

"There, you see?" Horace protested. "Halt agrees with me, so it must be true!"

"Are you implying he never agrees with you?" Cassandra asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No!" Horace protested, then hesitated. "Well…maybe a bit…"

Will found this most amusing.

**"And we'll be late for it if we don't hurry."**

**He clapped his heels into Abelard's side and the horse shot away like an arrow from Halt's own bow, leaving Will and Tug far behind in a matter of seconds.**

**Will touched Tug's sides with his own heels and the little pony raced off in pursuit of his bigger friend.**

**"Come on, Tug!" Will urged. Let's show them how a real Ranger horse can run."**

Halt snorted explosively.

"As. If."


	16. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Rodney reads Chapter Fifteen of Ruins of Gorlan. Lampshades are hung.

"Sir Rodney?" Lady Pauline offered, handing the book to the knight who's turn she'd stolen.

Rodney scanned the first page, lifted an eyebrow, and turned to look at Horace and Will, who exchanged nervous looks.

 _What did we do this time?_ Horace wondered.

 _I have no idea._ Will responded.

"Boys..." both Cassandra and Alyss started.

Crowley found this most amusing.

Rodney started reading.

**Will rode Tug slowly through the crowded fairground that had been set up outside the castle walls. All the villagers and inhabitants of the castle itself seemed to be out, and he had to ride carefully to ensure that Tug didn't step on somebody's foot.**

"Harvest Day!" Came the exclamations from all current and former inhabitants of Redmont.

Crowley pouted a little. "We didn't have that when _I_ was there..."

Arald gave a cynical look. "That's because Norton was in charge, remember?"

"And because the river used to flood something awful..."

"Wasn't your father still alive then?" Rodney muttered to his friend.

Arald glanced at him. "Not that it mattered, much. Just made him sneakier."

**It was Harvest Day, the day when all the crops had been gathered and stored for the winter months ahead.**

Will and Horace exchanged long-suffering looks.

**After a hard month of harvesting, the Baron traditionally allowed his people a holiday. Every year, at this time, the traveling fair came to the castle and set up its booths and stalls. There were fire-eaters and jugglers, singers and storytellers. There were stalls where you could attempt to win prizes by throwing soft leather balls at pyramids made from bottle-shaped pieces of wood or by throwing hoops over squared.**

"Which is rigged," Halt muttered.

**Will sometimes thought that the squares were just a little larger than the hoops that one was given to throw, and he had never actually seen anyone win one of the prizes.**

"See?" Halt said smugly.

"Halt, nobody's disagreeing with you," Rodney pointed out.

**But it was all fun and the Baron paid for it from his own purse.**

King Duncan raised his eyebrows, rather impressed. Such a festival would be quite expensive.

**Right now, however, Will was not concerned with the fair and its attractions. There would be time later in the day for that. At the moment, he was on his way to meet his former wardmates.**

Rodney gave Horace a _you were an idiot_ look before continuing to read.

Cassandra swatted her husband lightly.

"What did you _do?"_ She hissed.

**By tradition, all the Craftmasters gave their apprentices the day off on Harvest Day, even though they had taken no part in the actual harvest themselves. Will had been wondering for weeks whether or not Halt would conform to the practice.**

"Halt? Conform? Are we talking about the same person, here?" Gilan demanded.

Jenny smothered a laugh. Gilan grinned at her.

Halt rolled his eyes so hard he ended up in the next dimension.

(Okay, not really. But you get the point, ja?)

**The Ranger seemed to take no notice of tradition and had his own way of doing things. But, two nights before, his anxiety had been settled. Halt would conform to the practice.**

Jaws.

Dropped.

Except for Lady Pauline's and (of course) Halt's, who were very determinedly avoiding each other's gaze - and anyone else's, for that matter.

**Halt had gruffly told him that he could have the holiday, adding that he would probably forget everything that he had learned in the past three months.**

Will pouted. Everyone else laughed - especially Gilan.

"He said that to me," he chortled.

"You could be more sympathetic," Will whined in a comic exaggeration of the actual action.

 **Those three months had been a time of constant practice** \- "Of course," Gilan murmured - **with his bow and the knives that Halt had given him. Three months of stalking through the fields outside the castle moving from one scant patch of cover to the next, trying to make his way unobserved by Halt's eagle eyes. Three months of riding and caring for Tug, of forming a special bond of friendship with the little pony.**

Will smiled fondly. Halt observed his former apprentice with concealed pride.

Gilan and Crowley were grinning knowingly.

**Now, he was ready for a holiday and ready to enjoy himself a little.**

"Oops," Horace deadpanned.

Will snorted, grinning.

 **Even the thought that Horace would be there** \- _"Will!"_ objected Cassandra - **couldn't dim the pleasure. Maybe, he thought, a few months' hard training in Battleschool had changed Horace's aggressive manner a little.  
**

"A little early there, Will," Horace said dryly.

"I take it this doesn't go swimmingly?" Gilan asked dryly.

Will and Horace exchanged glances and shrugged.

"You could say that," they said.

**It was Jenny who had arranged the meeting for the holiday, encouraging the others to join her with the promise of fresh mince pies that she would bring from the kitchen.**

"That's not _encouragement,_ that's bribery," Horace complained.

"Bribery is a form of encouragement," Halt said innocently.

**She was already one of Master Chubb's prize pupils and he boasted of her artistry to anyone who would listen -**

Jenny blushed and beamed.

**\- giving subtle emphasis to the vital role his training had played in developing her skill, of course.**

"Of course," Arald said, shaking his head, but the corners of his mouth were curled up in a smile.

**Will's stomach grumbled with pleasure at the thought of those pies.**

"You do use that word rather a lot, Will," Pauline observed. "Was something on your mind?"

It took the rest of the table a moment, before Will went beet red. The look on Gilan's face said he didn't need that mental image.

Alyss didn't look entirely displeased.

**He was starving, since he had intentionally gone without breakfast so as to leave room for them.**

"And here I was worried there was something wrong with you," Halt grumbled, at the same time Horace asked, "You did _what?"_

"They're good pies!" Will defended himself.

Horace shook his head. "Yes...but...you didn't need to skip breakfast for them!"

"He's right you know, Will," Jenny said, concerned.

**He had arrived at the meeting point early, so he dismounted and led Tug into the shade of an apple tree. The little pony craned his head to look wistfully at the apples on the branches, well out of his reach. Will grinned at him and scrambled quickly up the tree, picking an apple and handing it to the pony.**

"You're going to make that horse of yours too fat to run," Halt told Will.

"Hasn't happened yet," Will said smugly.

**"That's all you get," he said. "You know what Halt says about eating too much,"  
**

"Oh, _now_ he listens."

"I listen!" Will defended himself.

Halt snorted in disbelief.

**Tug shook his head impatiently. That was still a matter of disagreement between him and the Ranger.**

**Will looked around. There was no sign of the others, so he sat down in the shade of the tree, leaning his back against the knobby trunk to wait.**

**"Why, it's young Will, isn't it?" said a deep voice close behind him.  
**

_"How_ did you not notice him approaching?" Gilan demanded.

"Plot convenience," Will said sarcastically. "Because this is a story book and I am about to learn a _vewy impowtant secwet."_ Yes, he said it exactly like that.

Gilan rolled his eyes.

Alyss laughed softly.

**Will scrambled hastily to his feet and touched his forehead in a polite salute. It was Baron Arald himself, seated astride his giant battlehorse and accompanied by several of his senior knights.**

Halt shook his head. "I didn't think you'd forget everything you learned _that_ quickly," he grumbled.

"But _Halt,"_ Will said earnestly, eyes wide. "It's _pwot convenience!"_

Halt glared at him as the table erupted in laughter.

**"Yes, sir," said Will nervously. He wasn't used to being addressed by the Baron. "A happy Harvest Day to you, sir."**

**The Baron nodded in acknowledgement and leaned forward, slouching comfortably in his saddle. Will had to crane his neck to look up at him.**

**"I must say, young man, you look quite the part there," the Baron said.**

Will beamed.

**"I hardly saw you in that gray Ranger cloak."**

"That is rather the point, you know," Crowley pointed out.

"He's got a point, Arald," Rodney pointed out fairly.

Arald glared at his friend. "Who's side are you on, here?" He complained.

Rodney managed not to smirk, but it was a near thing.

**"Has Halt been teaching all his tricks already?"**

**Will glanced down at the gray and green mottled cloak that he was wearing. Halt had given it to him some weeks ago. He'd shown Will how the gray and green mottling broke up the shape of the wearer and helped him blend into the landscape. It was one of the reasons, he'd said, why Rangers could move unseen with such ease.**

"Trust the cloak," the Rangers (and Horace) chorused.

**"It's the cloak, sir," Will said. "Halt calls it camouflage." The Baron nodded, obviously familiar with the term, which had been a new concept to Will.**

Arald looked pointedly at the Ranger Commandant, who grinned unashamedly.

**"Just make sue you don't use it to steal more cakes," he said with mock severity, and Will shook his head hurriedly.**

Dead silence.

Arald pouted.

Lady Pauline didn't laugh...outwardly.

**"Oh, no, sir," he said immediately. "Halt told me that if I did anything like that, he'd tan the skin off my backsi-" he stopped awkwardly. He wasn't sure if backside was the sort of word you used in the presence of someone as exalted as a Baron.**

Laughter erupted. Arald rolled his eyes and jabbed a thumb at Rodney. "Believe me, Will, this one's said much worse."

Rodney tried to object, but was laughing to much to do so.

Will sent Alyss a betrayed look.

Duncan was shaking his head. He'd forgotten how very _young_ Will used to be.

 _Used to be?_ Duncan wondered with a start. _When did he become old?_

It was difficult to see someone who had been through so much as _young._

**The Baron nodded again, trying not to let a wide grin break through.**

**"I'm sure he did," he said.**

Rodney was suppressing chuckles again.

"Didn't Pritchard say something similar to you?" Arald asked pointedly.

Rodney hurriedly kept reading as Horace gaped at the Redmont Battlemaster in openmouthed shock.

**"And how are you getting on with Halt, Will? Are you enjoying learning to be a Ranger?"**

**Will paused.**

Halt frowned slightly. Had the boy not...?

**To be honest, he hadn't had time to think if he was enjoying himself or not. His days were too busy learning new skills, practicing with bow and knives and working with Tug. This was the first time in three months he'd had a moment to actually think about it.**

**"I suppose so," he said hesitantly. "Only..."**

Halt's frown deepened.

**His voice trained off and the Baron looked at him more closely.**

**"Only what?" he prompted.**

**Will shifted from one foot to the other, wishing that his mouth didn't continually get him into these situations by talking too much.**

"I should be so lucky," Halt muttered. Pauline jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, making him jump. Crowley found that most amusing.

**Words had a way of emerging before he'd really had time to consider whether he wanted to say them or not.**

**"Only...Halt never smiles at all," he went on awkwardly. "He's always so serious about things."  
**

**He had the impression that the Baron was suppressing another grin.**

"It's a serious job, Will."

**"Well," said Baron Arald, "being a Ranger is a serious business, you know."**

Halt raised his eyes to heaven.

"Gorlog help me, I am thinking like Arald," he muttered.

Pauline jabbed him again.

**"I'm sure Halt has impressed that on you."**

**"All the time," Will said ruefully and, this time, the Baron couldn't help smiling.**

**"Just pay attention to what he tells you, youngster," he said. "You're learning a very important job there."**

**"Yes, sir." Will was a little surprised to realize that he _did_ agree with the Baron.**

"Of course you did," Arald said cheerfully.

It was Rodney's turn to eye-roll into the next dimension.

**Baron Arald reached forward to gather up his reins.**

**On an impulse, before the nobleman could ride away, Will stepped forward.**

**"Excuse me, sir," he said hesitantly, and the Baron turned back to him.**

**"Yes, Will?" he asked.**

**Will shuffled his feet again, then went on. "Sir, remember when our armies fought Morgarath?"**

Dead silence. Arald and Rodney shared a dark look, Crowley glanced towards Halt, who's expression had hardened several degrees. Duncan's lips had thinned dangerously.

Will's eyes were darting between the older members of the table, slightly afraid of any forthcoming outburst.

**Baron Arald's cheerful face was clouded by a thoughtful frown. "I'll not forget that in a hurry, boy," he said. "What about it?"**

**"Sir, Halt tells me that a Ranger showed the cavalry a secret way across the Slipsunder, so they were able to attack the enemy's rear..."**

**"That's true," said Arald.**

**"I've been wondering, sir...what was the Ranger's name?" Will finished, feeling himself flush with his boldness.**

Halt leveled will with a thunderous glower.

"I told you," Halt started slowly, "that names weren't important."

Will shrank in his seat.

Alyss placed a protective hand on Will's shoulder.

Rodney hurriedly kept reading.

**"Didn't Halt tell you?" the Baron asked. Will shrugged his shoulders.**

**"He said names weren't important. He said supper was important, but not names."**

"Why does it _matter_ who stopped them?" Halt spat out with surprising vehemence.

"He was just curious, Halt. It's not like you could have hid the truth from him forever." Crowley pointed out reasonably.

Halt's glower faded a bit. Emphasis on _a bit._

**"But you think names are important, in spite of what your master has told you?" said the Baron, seeming to frown again. Will gulped and went on.**

**"I think it was Halt himself, sir," he said. "And I wondered why he hadn't been decorated or honored for his skill."**

"Because _fame_ and _notoriety_ defeats the purpose of being a Ranger." Halt growled.

Will inched away, looking rather miserable.

**The Baron thought for a moment, then spoke again.**

**"Well, you're right, Will," he said. "It was Halt."**

Halt glared. Arald looked apologetic.

**"And I wanted to honor him for it, but he wouldn't allow me. He said that wasn't the Rangers' way."**

**"But..." Will began in a perplexed tone, but the Baron's upraised hand stopped him from speaking any further.**

**"You Rangers** \- Will straightened a little at the term - **have your own ways, Will, as I'm sure you're learning. Sometimes other people don't understand them. Just listen to Halt and do as he does and I'm sure you'll have an honorable life ahead of you."**

Crowley shook his head. "You had no idea, did you?" He asked Arald.

Arald spread his hands. "How could I have? Considering everything he's done?"

"Yes, the whole Skandia incident was really a feather in my cap," Will muttered sarcastically, sounding bitter.

Alyss took her husband's hand in hers.

**"Yes, sir." Will saluted again as the Baron slapped his reins lightly on his horse's neck and turned him away toward the fairground.**

**"Now, enough of this," said the Baron. "We can't chatter all day. I'm off to the fair. Maybe this year I'll get a hoop over one of those damned squares!"**

"Unlikely," Halt stated, seemingly back to his old self.

**The Baron started to ride away. Then a thought seemed to strike hims and he reined in for a second.**

**"Will," he called back.**

**"Yes, sir?"**

**"Don't tell Halt that I told you he led the cavalry. I don't want him angry with me."**

"Too late," Halt said grimly.

Arald inched surreptitiously away from him.

Meanwhile, Gilan was staring at Will.

"You're _scary,_ you know that?"

Will smiled serenely. It was an expression he'd learned from Alyss.


	17. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Duncan reads Chapter Sixteen of Ruins of Gorlan. Awkwardness and embarrassment ensue. Poor Horace.

King Duncan received the book from Sir Rodney and scanned the first page. His eyebrows rose, (Horace and Will exchanged another nervous look) and he began reading.

 **Jenny, Alyss, and George arrived shortly after. As she had promised, Jenny was carrying a batch of fresh pies wrapped in a red cloth. She laid them carefully on the ground under the apple tree as the other crowded around. Even Alyss, usually so poised and dignified** \- Lady Pauline nodded to the young woman in question, who beamed - **seemed anxious to get her hands on one of Jenny's masterpieces.**

"An apt description," Gilan commented, smiling at Jenny.

Jenny blushed.

**"Come on!" George said. "I'm starving!"**

**Jenny shook her head. "We should wait for Horace," she said, looking for him but not seeing him in the passing crowds of people.**

"No, you should _not_ wait for Horace because he will be a jerk and ruin everything!" Horace burst out in frustration. He immediately turned beet red and tried to hide under the table. Cassandra didn't let him.

"Horace..." she started gently. Horace just kept trying to hide under the table.

Everyone who didn't know what happened looked confused. Everyone who did looked equal parts awkward and exasperated.

"Horace, come out from under the table," Cassandra coaxed. Horace did not come out from under the table.

"Oh for the love of - will one of you give me a hand?" She asked, looking up. Will and Alyss rose immediately, followed by a red-faced Jenny.

"Come on, Horace," Will tried, attempting to assist Cassandra in hoisting his friend back into his chair. But the young knight was strong, stubborn, and heartily resistant to the idea of reliving the worst day of his life.

 _"Horace,"_ Jenny said sternly, and Horace managed to stop struggling long enough to stare. He'd never heard Jenny sound so forceful.

She leaned down to meet his eyes. "I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. So did Alyss. So did Will. So did George."

"So did Tug, come to think of it," Will put in. "Besides, didn't he get his revenge in just before we left for Celtica? He headbutted you so hard you landed flat on your back."

"You know, I think I do recall that," Horace muttered.

"Now, _sit up,_ for God's sake," Cassandra said briskly, hauling her now-much-less-resistant husband back into his chair, where he stayed sitting - albeit with hunched shoulders and a flaming-red face.

King Duncan watched the spectacle, puzzled. He guessed that Horace had somehow antagonized the three of them in some manner, and was highly ashamed of it.

He had no idea.

The three former Wardmates slowly retreated, and King Duncan coughed politely once everyone had regained their seats.

"Please continue, father," Cassandra said, quite formally.

**"Oh, come on," George pleaded. "I've been slaving over a hot petition to the Baron all morning!"**

Arald made a face. "And I had to read it, too," he complained. Rodney snorted unsympathetically.

**Alyss rolled her eyes to heaven. "Perhaps we should start," she said. "Otherwise he'll begin a legal argument and we'll be here all day. We can always put a couple aside for Horace."**

Horace shrank a little. Cassandra elbowed him gently. "You are not going to hide under the table," she informed him sternly. "Nobody here holds a grudge and that is final."

 _Nobody but me, anyway..._ Horace thought, rather miserable.

**Will grinned. George was a different kettle of fish now to the shy, stammering boy at the Choosing. Scribeschool obviously had caused him to bloom. Jenny served out two pies each, setting two aside for Horace.**

Horace resisted the urge to let his head bang against the table. _I'm an idiot..._

Cassandra elbowed him again. "You are not an idiot," she insisted quietly, so nobody else could hear. "It's okay, Horace. Really."

"You weren't there," he mumbled back.

**"That'll do for starters," she said. The others eagerly tucked in and soon began to chorus their praise for the pies. Jenny's reputation was well founded.**

Will nodded towards his friend, grinning. Gilan smiled. Horace managed to escape for the specter of shame long enough to voice his confirmation of that particular fact. Jenny smiled at him in return, and the young knight managed a smile.

**"This," said George, standing above them and spreading his arms wide as he addressed an imaginary court, "cannot be described as a mere pie, your honor. To describe this as a pie would be a gross miscarriage of justice, the like of which this court has never seen before!"**

The table laughed and voiced it's general agreement - especially Gilan. Jenny blushed and beamed.

**Will turned to Alyss. "How long has he been like this?" he asked.**

**She smiled. "They all get this way with a few months' legal training. These days, the main problem with George is getting him to shut up."**

"Sounds like the George of today," Horace said, surprising himself. Will and Alyss laughed.

"Only too true," Alyss said ruefully, shaking her head. "He goes on and on and on..."

Will had been animating Alyss's words with his hands, resulting in a good deal of mirth.

**"Oh, sit down, George," said Jenny, blushing at his praise but delighted nonetheless. "You are a complete idiot."**

**"Perhaps, my fair miss. But it is the sheer magic of these works of art that has turned my brain. These are not pies, these are symphonies!" He said his remaining half pie to the others in a mock toast.**

**"I give you...Miss Jenny's symphony of pies!"**

"I'll pretend you said them if you do," Jenny said to Gilan teasingly. Gilan considered that for a moment, then grinned.

"I could live with that."

Pauline rolled her eyes elegantly.

**Alyss and Will, grinning at each other and at George, raised their own pies in response, and echoed the toast. Then all four apprentices burst out laughing.**

**It was a pity that Horace chose that precise moment to arrive. Alone among them, he was miserable in his new situation.**

Sir Rodney looked over at Horace with sympathy in his eyes. "I wish you'd said something, my boy," he said. Horace nodded, but managed a bit of wry grin.

"I don't think it would have been as satisfying in the end," he admitted.

Will snickered.

**The work was hard and unremitting and the discipline was unwavering. He had expected that, of course, and under normal circumstances he could have handled it. But being the focus for Bryn, Alda, and Jerome's spite was making his life a nightmare - literally.**

Horace's face settled into a stony mask. A muscle in Sir Rodney's jaw jumped. King Duncan gritted his teeth.

**The three second year cadets would rouse him for his bed at all hours of the night, dragging out to preform the most humiliating and exhausting of tasks.**

Cries of outrage sounded from along the table. Cassandra rested her head against her husband's shoulder.

Will caught his friends eye and mimed paddling someone. Horace cracked a vicious grin.

Sir Rodney glanced back at forth between the two friends and lifted an eyebrow. He was going to _enjoy_ reading about that.

**The lack of sleep and the worry of never knowing when they might appear to torment him further was causing him to fall behind in his classroom work. His roommates, sensing that if they showed any sympathy for him they might become targets along with him, had cast him adrift,** **so that he felt to totally alone in his misery.**

Sir Rodney had a distinctly sour look on his face. Baron Arald's eyes were darting from the book, to Horace, to Rodney, and back to the book again, in a wary triangle, as if he was deciding which of them was more likely to explode.

**The one thing he had always aspired to was rapidly becoming ashes in his mouth. He hated Battleschool, but he could see no way out of his predicament without embarrassing and humiliating himself even further.**

**Now, on the one day when he could escape from the restrictions and the tensions of Battleschool, he arrived to find his former wardmates already busy at their feast, and he was angry and hurt that they hadn't bothered to wait for him.**

"Poor timing at it's finest," Jenny said unhappily. "Horace, I'm sorry -"

Horace waved her off. "'s fine, Jen," he mumbled.

**He had no idea that Jenny had set some of the pies aside for him. He assumed that she had divided them up already and that hurt more than anything. Of all his former wardmates, she was one he felt closest to. Jenny was always cheerful, always friendly, always willing to listen to listen to another's troubles. He realized that he had been looking forward to seeing her again today and now he felt that she had let him down.**

**He was predisposed to think badly of the others. Alyss had always seemed to hold herself aloof from him,**

"Probably because I always had my nose in a book," Alyss joked. Will chuckled. Horace tried to smile and failed.

**and Will spent his time playing tricks, then running away and climbing into that immense tree where Horace couldn't follow.**

"Conveniently forgetting, of course, all the times I put you in a headlock," Horace said airily.

Will just shrugged. "I think it was more even than either of us remember, honestly."

**At least, that was how Horace saw things in his current, vulnerable state. He conveniently forgot the times he had cuffed Will over the ear, or held him in a headlock until the smaller boy was forced to cry, "Yield!"**

**As for George, Horace had never taken much notice of him.**

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled to know that," Halt deadpanned.

Horace laughed weakly. "Undoubtedly."

**The thin boy was studious and devoted to his books and Horace had always considered him a pallid, uninteresting person. Now here he was performing for them while they laughed and ate the pies left nothing for him and suddenly he hated them all.**

"But it doesn't last because we're all just so _loveable,"_ Will cracked. Horace snorted.

"Yes, of course. It had nothing to do with you saving my life, or anything of the like," he retorted sarcastically.

Cassandra and Alyss shared a victorious glance.

**"Well, this is very nice, isn't it?" he said bitterly, and they turned around to him, the laughter dying on their faces. As was inevitable, Jenny was the first one to recover.**

**"Horace! You're here at last!" she said. She started toward him, but the cold look on his face stopped her.**

"Face like that you could have been the next Halt," Crowley said sagely, snickering when Halt glared at him.

**"At last?" he said. "I'm a few minutes late and suddenly I'm here 'at least'? And just too late because you've already pigged out on all the pies."**

"Which is different from what you would have done if you'd gotten there first... _how_ , again? You _utter clod."_ Horace hissed, voice cracking at the end as he held back tears.

Cassandra rubbed Horace's back. "It's okay," she murmured. "You're okay, yeah? Everything worked out all right in the end."

With supreme effort of will, Horace managed to pull himself together before he went completely to pieces.

**Which was hardly fair to poor Jenny. Like most cooks, once she had prepared a meal, she had little interest in eating it. Her real pleasure lay in watching others enjoy the results of her work - and listening to their praise. Consequently, she hadn't had any of the pies. She turned back now to the two that she had covered in a napkin to keep for him.**

**"No, no," she said quickly. "There are still some left! Look!"**

**But Horace's pent-up anger prevented him from acting or speaking rationally. "Well," he said, in a voice heavy with sarcasm, "maybe I ought to come back later and give you time to finish them as well."**

"Jenny," Horace started, "Jen, I'm sorry - "

Jenny smiled gently. "It's all right Horace."

Horace nodded and stared at the table. He hated this - hated being reminded what he'd done to his friends - to Will, especially. He hated having it out in the open, because he could deal with it - not perfectly, not by a long shot, but he _could_ \- but when it was out in the open where other people could see who he had been, he was crippled by terror, terror that they would hate him for it, that they would shout and scream and cast him away like a piece of trash. That they would abandon him and deny they'd even known him, and leave him alone in the world, dishonored and disgraced and worthless.

He could deal with the recounting of his bullying. It was unpleasant and uncomfortable, but ultimately he could shrug it off because it was over and done and the scales were equal in that regard. But he hated, hated, hated this. It made him feel wretched and scared and low.

Horace realized he was shaking. Cassandra wrapped her arms around him.

Gilan wanted to be angry at Horace for saying what he'd said to Jenny. But in the face of Horace's shame and remorse and - while we're being honest - misery, he just...couldn't.

Sir Rodney knew he should be angry. But in truth, he sympathized with the boy. He'd had to deal with bullies too, but he'd had Arald at his side. Horace'd had no one.

King Duncan studied his son-in-law. He too, didn't have it in him to be angry. Rather, he felt sorry for the boy who had been through so much, and dragged himself out of it to become the young man he was today.

"Horace," he began gently, "if you'd rather we not read this, I can skip the rest of this chapter."

Horace shook his head. "No," he said quietly, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I-it's fine."

**"Horace!" Tears sprang to Jenny's eyes. She had no idea what was wrong with Horace. All she knew was that her plan for a pleasant reunion with her old wardmates was falling in ruins.**

**George stepped forward now, peering curiously at Horace. The tall, thin boy cocked his head to one side, to study the apprentice warrior more closely - as if he were an exhibit or a piece of evidence.**

**"There's no call to be unpleasant," he said reasonably. But reason wasn't what Horace wanted to hear. He shoved the other boy aside angry.**

**"Get away from me," he said. "And mind how you talk to a warrior."**

Horace's forehead hit the table with a resounding thud.

**"You're not a warrior yet," Will told him scornfully. "You're still only an apprentice like the rest of us."**

"Will!" Halt snapped. Will flinched. Halt reminded himself not to apologize.

**Jenny made a small gesture with her hands, urging Will to drop the matter. Horace, who was in the act of helping himself to the remaining pies, looked up slowly. He measured Will up and down for a second or two.**

**"Oho!" he said. "I see the apprentice spy is with us today!" He looked to see if the others were laughing at his wit.**

"I'm an idiot," Horace muttered.

**They weren't, and it only served to make him more unpleasant.**

**"I suppose Halt is teaching you to slink around, spying on everyone, is he?"**

Crowley tactfully refrained from mentioning that sneaking around was rather the point, sensing it would not help matters.

**Horace stepped forward, without waiting for an answer, and fingered Will's mottled cloak sarcastically.**

**"What's this? Didn't they have enough dye to make it all one color?"**

"Nah, we spent all our funding on the knives," Will deadpanned automatically. Horace snorted. Cassandra brightened marginally.

**"It's a Ranger cloak," Will said quietly, holding down the anger that was building inside him.**

**Horace snorted scornfully, cramming half of one of the pies into his mouth and spraying crumbs as he did so.**

**"Don't be so unpleasant," George said.**

"Yes, Horace," Horace said heavily, "Don't be so unpleasant. Clod."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Horace," Cassandra scolded gently.

Lady Pauline thought it would be best if the chapter ended quite soon.

**Horace rounded on the apprentice scribe, his face red.**

**"Watch your tongue, boy!" he snapped. "You're talking to a warrior, you know!"**

**"An apprentice warrior," Will repeated firmly, laying stress on the word _apprentice._**

"And enter idiot-Will," Will remarked, going a little red.

**Horace went redder and looked angrily between the two of them. Will tensed himself, sensing that the bigger boy was about to launch an attack. But there was something in Will's eyes and his ready stance that made Horace think twice about it. He had never seen that look of defiance before. In the past, if he'd threatened Will, he had always seen fear. This newfound courage unsettled him a little.**

**Instead, he turned back to George and gave him a heavy shove in the chest.**

**"How's that for unpleasant?" he said as the tall, thin boy staggered back. George's arms windmilled as he tried to save himself from falling. Accidentally, he struck Tug a glancing blow on the side. The little pony, grazing peacefully, reared suddenly against his bridle.**

**"Steady, Tug," Will said, and Tug quieted immediately. But now Horace had noticed him for the first time. He stepped forward and looked more closely at the shaggy pony.**

**"What's this?" he asked in mock disbelief. "Has someone brought a big ugly dog to the party?"  
**

**Will clenched his fists. "He's my horse," he said quietly. He could put up with Horace sneering at him, but he wasn't going to stand by and see his horse insulted.**

**Horace let out a braying laugh.**

**"A horse?" he said. "That's not a horse! In the Battleschool we ride real horses! Not shaggy dogs! Looks like he needs a good bath to me too!" He wrinkled his nose and pretended to sniff closer to Tug.**

Horace banged his head into the table again. Cassandra was murmuring concerned and reassuring words

**The pony glanced sideways at Will. _Who is this unpleasant clod?_ His eyes seemed to say.**

"See?" Horace mumbled to his worried-sick wife. "Even the horse agrees with me..."

**Then Will, carefully hiding the wicked grin that was trying to show on his face, said casually:**

**"He's a Ranger horse. Only a Ranger can ride him."**

**Horace laughed again. "My grandmother could ride that shaggy dog!"**

Crowley facepalmed.

**"Maybe she could," said Will, "but I'll bet you can't."**

"Will..." Halt started warningly.

**Before he'd finished the challenge, Horace was untying the bridle. Tug looked at Will and the boy could have sworn the horse nodded slightly.**

**Horace swung himself easily up onto Tug's back. The pony stood unmoving.**

**"Nothing to it!" Horace crowed. Then he dug his heels into Tug's sides. "Come on, doggy! Let's have a run."**

**Will saw the familiar, preparatory bunching of muscles in Tug's legs and body. Then the pony sprang into the air off all four feet, twisted violently, came down on his front legs and shot his hindquarters high into the air.  
**

**Horace flew like a bird for several seconds. Then he crashed flat on the his back in the dust. George and Alyss looked on in delighted disbelief -** Alyss winced - **as the bully lay there for a second or two, stunned and winded. Jenny went to step forward to see if he was all right. Then her mouth set in a determined line and she stopped. Horace had asked for it, she thought.**

**There was a chance then, just a chance, that the whole incident might end there. But Will couldn't resist the temptation to have one last word.**

Will's head hit the table.

**"Maybe you'd better ask your grandmother if she'll teach you to ride," he said straight-faced. George and Alyss managed to hide their smiles but, unfortunately, it was Jenny who couldn't stop the small giggle that escaped her.**

**In an instant, Horace scrambled to his feet, his face dark with rage. He looked around, saw a fallen branch from the apple tree and grabbed it. Brandishing it over his head as he rushed at Tug.**

**"I'll show you, and your damned horse!" he yelled furiously, swinging the stick wildly at Tug. The pony danced sideways out of harm's way and, before Horace could strike again, Will was on him.**

**He landed on Horace's back and his weight and the force of his leap drove them both to the ground. They rolled there, grappling with each other, each trying to gain an advantage. Tug, alarmed to see his master in danger, whinnied nervously and reared.**

**One of Horace's wildly flailing arms caught Will a ranging blow across the ear. Then Will managed to get his right arm free and punched Horace hard in the nose.**

Sir Rodney rubbed his own formerly-broken one.

**Blood ran down the bigger boy's face. Will's arms were hard and well muscled after his three months' training with Halt. But Horace was being taught in a hard school too. He drove a fist into Will's stomach and Will gasped as the air was driven out of him.**

**Horace scrambled to his feet but Will, in a move that Halt had shown him, swung his own legs in a wide arc, cutting Horace's feet from under him and sending him tumbling again.**

_**Always strike first,** _ **Halt had dinned into his brain in the hours they'd spent practicing unarmed combat. Now, as the other boy crashed to the ground again, Will dived upon him, trying to pin his arms beneath his knees.  
**

**Then Will felt an iron grip on the back of his collar and he was being hauled in the air, like a fish upon a hook, wriggling and protesting.**

There was a collective sigh of relief from around the table, and Horace actually slumped backward in his seat.

"It's over," Lady Pauline murmured, relieved.

**"What's going on here, you two hooligans?" said a loud angry voice in his ear.**

"Oops," Will deadpanned.

**Will twisted around and realized that he was being held by Sir Rodney, the Battlemaster. And the big warrior looked extremely angry.**

"He's looked like that since the day I met him - although I'm sure that's just a coincidence," Arald joked. Nobody laughed.

Sir Rodney and Lady Pauline made eye contact and hastily glanced away from each other, both restraining their laughter at the comical disappointment on Arald's face.

**Horace scrambled to his feet and stood at attention. Sir Rodney released Will's collar and the Ranger's apprentice dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Then he too stood to attention.  
**

**"Two apprentices," said Sir Rodney angrily, "brawling like hooligans and spoiling the holiday! And, to make things worse, one of them is my _own_ apprentice!"**

**Will and Horace shuffled their feet, eyes down, unable to meet the Battlemaster's furious gaze.**

**"All right, Horace, what's going on here?"**

**Horace shuffled his feet again and went red. He didn't answer. Sir Rodney looked at Will.**

**"All right, you, the Ranger's boy! What's this all about?"**

**Will hesitated. "Just a fight, sir," he mumbled.**

"I can see that, you know," Sir Rodney said dryly. "I'm not blind, and I'm not deaf either."

"Well..." Baron Arald started, then chuckled as Sir Rodney scowled at him.

"Don't you start!"

**"I can see that!" the Battlemaster shouted. "I'm not an idiot, you know!" He paused for a moment, waiting to see if either boy had anything further to add. They were both silent. Sir Rodney sighed in exasperation. Boys! If they weren't fighting, they were stealing or breaking something.**

Crowley grinned. "Speaking from experience, Rodney?" he asked innocently.

"As I recall, you did a fair amount of stealing and breaking yourself, Crowley." Rodney retorted.

Gilan and Will stared.

**"All right," he said finally. "The fight's over. Now shake hands and be done with it." He paused and, as neither boy made a move to shake hands, roared in his parade-ground voice:**

_**"Get on with it!"** _

**Galvanized into action, Will and Horace reluctantly shook hands. But as Will looked into Horace's eyes, he saw that the matter was far from settled.  
**

_**We'll finish this another** _ **_time_ , the angry look in Horace's eyes said.**

_**Any time you** **like,** _ **the apprentice Ranger's eyes replied.**

There was a moment of silence as King Duncan closed the book. It was broken by Horace.

"If you'll all excuse me, I'm going to go trow myself off the battlements now..."


	18. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halt reads Chapter Seventeen of Ruins of Gorlan. Salt Peter ensues.

After everyone had ascertained that Horace was _not,_ in fact, going to throw himself on the battlements, the reading could resume as normal once again.

"Halt, it's your turn again," Duncan called down the table.

"Oh, joy," the Ranger muttered, but he accepted the book without any further complaining. He'd already been exiled once, after all.

**Snow lay thick on the ground as Will and Halt rode slowly home from the forest.**

**The situation between Will and Horace** \- both boys winced - **remained unsolved as time had passed. There had been little chance for the two boys to resume the argument, as their respective masters kept them busy and their paths seldom crossed.**

"How things change," King Duncan remarked dryly.

Rodney glanced briefly at Horace. "How indeed."

**Will had seen the apprentice warrior occasionally, but always at a distance. They hadn't spoken or even had the chance to acknowledge each others' presence. But the ill feeling was still there, Will knew, and one day it would come to a head.**

_Or...not,_ thought everyone who was at the boar hunt. Those who weren't shivered unconsciously. Lady Pauline, of course, knew what happened, and so can be counted in the former camp.

**Strangely, he found that the prospect didn't disturb him nearly as much as it might have a few months ago. It was not that he looked forward to renewing the fight with Horace, but he found he could face the idea with a certain amount of equanimity.**

Alyss looked at her husband with one eyebrow raised. "I didn't know you knew that word."

Will looked smug. "I'm full of surprises."

"Less now than before the wedding, I would imagine," Lady Pauline put in.

Will and Alyss went bright red, and Halt (plus everyone else) stared at Lady Pauline in shock. For her part, Pauline kept her face impassive as ever. Halt stumbled a bit as he started reading again.

**He felt a deep satisfaction when he recalled that good, solid punch he had landed on Horace's nose.**

_"Will!"_ Cassandra snapped. Will held up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry!"

**He also realized, with a slight sense of surprise, that the memory of the incident was made more enjoyable by the fact that it had happened in the presence of Jenny and - this was where the surprise lay - Alyss. Inconclusive as the even might have been, there was still a lot about it to set Will thinking and remembering.**

"I don't know why it took you two so long. You were sending out signals for years," Halt grumbled.

"Why'd it take you so long to propose to Pauline?" Crowley returned cheerfully.

Halt glared at him.

**But not right now, he realized as Halt's angry tone dragged him back to the present.**

"Yes, Will, pay attention," Gilan mock-scolded, imitating Halt's voice with uncanny accuracy.

Halt switched his glare to Gilan. "When I find this Stefan who taught you how to do that, I am going to put an arrow in him."

Gilan turned serious. "His shipmates might have a few things to say about that. With atlatls, swords, axes, and whacking great crossbows."

"And hot tempers," King Duncan put in.

"And -" Cassandra started, before Halt interrupted.

"All right! You've made your point, spare me the exposition."

**"Could we possibly continue with our tracking, or did you have something more important to do?" he inquired. Instantly, Will cast around, trying to see what Halt had pointed out.**

Halt stopped reading for a moment to raise his eyebrow in Will's direction.

**As they rode through the crisp, white snow, their horses' hooves making only the smallest of sounds, Halt had been pointing to disturbances in the even white cover. They were tracks left by animals and it was Will's task to identify them. He had sharp eyes and a good mind for the task.  
**

"Well, I see you weren't lacking in confidence," Halt commented, looking up.

Will raised his hands in surrender (he seemed to be doing that a lot lately). "I didn't write the books, Halt."

**He normally enjoyed these tracking lessons, but now his attention had wandered and he had no idea where he was supposed to be looking.**

Halt gave his former apprentice a long-suffering look.

Will grinned. "Alyss does tend to distract me," he said innocently.

Alyss rolled her eyes, but smiled.

**"There,"** **Halt said, his tone leaving no doubt that he didn't expect to have to repeat such things,  
**

"I certainly do not."

**as he pointed to the left. Will stood in his stirrups to see the disturbed snow more clearly.**

**"Rabbit," he said promptly.**

**"Rabbit?" he asked, and Will looked again, correcting himself almost immediately.**

**"Rabbits," he said, stressing the plural ending. Halt insisted on accuracy.**

"I should think so," Halt said sarcastically. "After all, there's something of a difference between knowing there's one Skandian in the area and a whole bloody boatload, isn't there?"

Gilan muttered something that sounded like "If it's even one Heron, you're still screwed," but nobody commented on it.

**"I should think so," Halt muttered at him. "After all, if there were Skandian tracks there, you'd need to be sure you knew how many there were."**

"Some things never change," Crowley teased. Halt glared.

**"I suppose so," said Will meekly.**

Arald and Rodney both raised an eyebrow in Will's direction.

"You suppose so."

**"You suppose so!" Halt replied sarcastically. "Believe me, Will, there's a big difference between knowing there's one Skandian about and knowing that there are half a dozen."**

"Half a dozen tends to make more noise," Horace put in thoughtfully.

"Not where Thorn is concerned," Gilan said immediately.

King Duncan's eyebrows shot up. "On top of everything else, he's a silent mover now too?"

Gilan nodded. "Oh, yes. Let's hope that treaty doesn't expire while he's still alive."

**Will nodded apologetically. One of the changes that had come over their relationship lately was the fact that Halt almost never referred to him as "boy" anymore. These days, it was always "Will". Will liked that. It made him feel that somehow he'd been accepted by the grim-faced Ranger. All the same, he did wish that Halt would smile once or twice when he said it.**

"This is _Halt_ we're talking about Will. Smiling isn't in his repertoire," Crowley pointed out cheerfully.

**Or even once.**

**Halt's lot voice snapped him out of his daydreaming.  
**

**"So...rabbits. Is that all?"**

**Will looked again. In the disturbed snow, difficult to see, but there now that Halt had pointed it out to him, was another set of tracks.**

**"A stoat!" he said triumphantly and Halt nodded again.**

**"A stoat," he agreed. "But you should have known there was something else there, Will. Look at how deep those rabbit tracks are. It's obvious that something had frightened them. When you see a sign like that, it's a hint to look for something extra."**

**"I see," said Will.**

"No, you didn't. And that's the point," Halt grumbled.

**"No. All to often, you don't see, because you don't maintain your concentration. You'll have to work on that."**

**Will said nothing. He merely accepted the criticism. He'd learned by now that Halt didn't criticize without reason. And when there was reason, no amount of excuses could save him.**

**They rode on in silence. Will strained his eyes at the ground around them, looking for more tracks, more animal signs. They went another kilometer or so and were starting to see some familiar landmarks that told him he was to their cottage when he saw something.**

Most of the people around the table (read: everyone but Will and Halt) leaned forward a bit, sensing something big.

**"Look!" he cried, pointing to a tumbled section of snow just off the path. "What's that?"**

**Halt turned to look. The tracks, if they were tracks, were like no others that Will had seen so far. The Ranger urged his horse near to the edge of the path and looked more closely.**

**"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. "That's one I haven't shown you yet. Don't see too many of them these days, so take a good look, Will."**

**He swung easily down from the saddle and walked through the knee-deep snow** \- "Are we talking knee-deep on you, Halt, or knee-deep on, say...an average person?" Crowley cracked. Halt glared - **toward the disturbance. Will followed him.**

**"What is it?" the boy asked.**

**"Wild boar," said Halt briefly. "And a big one."**

Horace, Arald, and Rodney made _ah_ faces. Jenny still looked a bit confused, but Alyss seemed to catch on quickly enough.

**Will glanced nervously around them. He mightn't know what a wild boar's tracks looked like in the snow, but he knew enough about the creatures to know they were very, very dangerous.**

"Which is where the appeal lies," Rodney explained cheerfully.

Jenny shook her head. "Well, better you than me," she murmured, surprising Gilan with her cavalier attitude toward it.

"Where did you think I got my boar meat? From cows?"

King Duncan bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

**Halt noticed the look and made a reassuring movement with his hand.**

**"Relax," he said. "He's nowhere near us."**

**"Can you tell that from the tracks?" Will asked. He stared, fascinated, at the snow. The deep ruts and furrows had obviously been made by a large animal. And it looked as if it were a very large, very _angry_ animal.**

**"No," said Halt evenly. "I can tell it from our horses. If a boar that size were anywhere in the district, those two would be snuffing and pawing and whinnying so hard, we wouldn't be able to hear ourselves think."**

**"Oh," said Will, feeling a little foolish. He'd relaxed the grip that he'd taken on his bow. However, in spite of the Ranger's assurances, he couldn't resist taking just one more look around behind them. And as he did so, his heart began pounding faster and faster.**

Horace tensed almost subconsciously, wondering what mess Will was about to (had gotten) into this time.

 **The thick undergrowth on the other side of the track was moving, ever so slightly. Normally, he might have passed the movement off as due to the breeze, but his training with Halt** \- "Good to know it wasn't entirely wasted on you," Halt snarked - **had heightened his reasoning and his observation. At the moment, there was no breeze. Not the slightest breath.**

**But still, the bushes continued to move.**

**Will's hand went slowly to his quiver. Moving deliberately, so as to avoid startling the creature in the bushes, he drew and arrow and placed it on the string of his bow.**

**"Halt?" he tried to keep his voice down, but couldn't prevent it from quaking just a little. He wondered if his bow would stop a charging boar. He didn't think so.**

"Only if you shoot it just right," Crowley said thoughtfully, then frowning when Will chuckled quietly to himself.

**Halt looked around, his gaze taking in the arrow nocked to Will's bowstring and noting the direction in which Will was looking.**

**"I hope you're not thinking of shooting the poor old farmer who's hiding behind those bushes," he said seriously.**

Horace let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and relaxed.

**Yet he pitched his voice so that it carried clearly across the track to the thick clump of bushes on the other side.**

**Instantly, there was a scuffle of movement from the bush and will heard a nervous voice crying out:**

**"Don't shoot, good sir! Please, don't shoot! It's only me!"**

Halt groaned. "Not him," he muttered, then went on under his breath in a highly uncharitable manner.

Will sniggered.

"Dear, you just met him," Pauline rebuked gently.

Halt, for once, was not cowed. "I would have an easier time trying to stop Will asking questions than I did trying to get this fool to concentrate on the _simple task_ I set him," he ground out from between gritted teeth.

**He hurried forward into the center of the track, his eyes fixed on the bow in Will's hands and the gleaming, razor-sharp tip of the arrow. Slowly, Will released the tension on the string and lowered the bow as he took a closer look at the interloper. He was skinned in the extreme.**

Halt gave Gilan a pointed look.

**Dressed in a ragged and dirty farmer's smock, he had long, awkward arms and legs and knobby elbows and knees. His beard was gray and matted and he was going bald on the top of his head.**

"So, essentially, what the book is saying, is that he looks like Gilan will when he gets old."

"Hey! Don't compare me to that ignoramus."

**The man stopped a few meters from them and smiled nervously at the two cloaked figures.**

**"Only me," he repeated, one last time.**

Halt snapped the book shut with unnecessary force, a sour look on his voice.

"Why don't we break for lunch?" King Duncan suggested tactfully, hoping to give Halt enough of a break that he didn't shoot something come next chapter. Cassandra agreed readily and Horace was sold at the mention of food, so the group resolved to eat before they read the next chapter.


	19. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 18

The group did indeed break for lunch (Horace was quite pleased at this, and once again ate enough for two grown men).

Halt, on the other hand, had a distinctly sour look on his face throughout the whole meal, and passed the book over to Sir Rodney with ill grace.

**Will couldn't help smiling to himself. Anything less like a ferocious, charging wild boar, he couldn't imagine.  
**

**"How did you know he was there?" he asked Halt in a soft voice. The Ranger shrugged.**

**"Saw him a few minutes ago. You'll learn eventually to sense when someone's watching you. Then you know to look for them."**

**Will shook his head in admiration. Halt's powers of observation were uncanny. No wonder people at the castle held him in such awe!**

"At the castle...and nowhere else," Crowley snarked. Halt glared. Crowley was unaffected.

**"Now then," Halt said sternly, "why are you skulking there? Who told you to spy on us?"**

"Because an old farmer is the perfect person to spy on a Ranger," Gilan said sarcastically. To his surprise, Halt nodded seriously.

"The best spy is the one nobody suspects."

If you look closely, you can see the interesting expression on Rodney's face...I'd advise those not called Baron Arald or Horace Altman to give him space.

**The old man rubbed his hands nervously together, his eyes flicking from Halt's forbidding expression to the arrow tip, lowered now but still nocked to the string on Will's bow.**

"Oops," Will said, fake-innocent. "I must have _forgotten..."_

"I think you've been spending too much time around, Halt, dear," Alyss teased. Will shook his head adamantly.

"No such thing."

**"Not spying, sir! No, no! Not spying. I heard you coming and thought you was that monster porker coming back!"**

Everyone found this to be incredibly amusing (except Halt and Will).

"How do you confuse _Rangers_ with _bacon?"_ Halt raged.

"Did he just compare Tug to pork?" Will demanded at the same time.

**Halt's eyebrows drew together. "You thought I was a wild boar?" he asked. Again, the farmer shook his head.**

**"No. No. No. No," he gabbled.**

"One _no_ would have sufficed."

**"Leastways, not once I'd saw you!"**

"Once _I_ saw you."

"You sound like Pritchard," Rodney grumbled.

**"But then I wasn't sure who you might be. Could be bandits, like."**

Crowley and Gilan found this most amusing. Horace even more so. Will just rolled his eyes.

**"What are you doing here?" Halt asked. "You're not a local, are you?"**

**The farmer, anxious to please, shook his head once again.**

**"Come from over Willowtree Creek, I do!" he said. "Been trailing that porker and hoping to find someone as could turn him into bacon."**

Horace seemed to get distracted at the mention of bacon.

"You _just at lunch,"_ Cassandra hissed in his ear.

**Halt was suddenly vitally interested. He dropped the mock severe tone in which he had been talking.**

**"You've seen the boar, then?" he asked, and the farmer rubbed his hands again and looked fearfully around, as if nervous that the 'porker' would appear from the trees any minute.**

**"Seen him. Heard him. Don't want to see him no more. He's a bad 'un, sir, mark my words."**

**Halt glanced back at the tracks again.**

**"He's certainly a big one, anyway," he mused.**

"Understatement of the year," Horace and Will said simultaneously.

Arald bit his tongue. Rodney didn't.

"That's because he was the first one you hunted. They get smaller after that."

Will sent the Redmont Battlemaster a withering glare. Or, it would have been withering, if Rodney wasn't...well, Rodney.

**"And evil, sir!" the farmer went on. "That 'un has a real devil of a temper in him. Why he'd as soon tear up a man or a horse as have his breakfast, he would!"**

**"So what did you have in mind for him?" Halt asked, then added, "What's your name, by the way?"**

Halt groaned.

 **"Peter, sir. Salt Peter, they calls me** \- " _call,_ it's _call_ " - **on account of I likes a little salt on my meat, I do."**

 _"I...don't...care...about...your...meat...preferences,"_ Halt ground out.

Rodney coughed and continued reading.

**Halt nodded. "I'm sure you do," he said patiently.**

_"Patiently,"_ Halt said sarcastically.

**"But what were you hoping to do about this boar?"**

**Salt Peter scratched his head and looked a little lost. "Don't rightly know. Hoped maybe I'd find a soldier or a warrior or a knight to get rid of him. Or maybe a Ranger," he added as an afterthought.**

**Will grinned. Halt stood up from where he'd gone down on one knee** \- Crowley sniggered at the 'one knee' bit, undoubtedly drawing a connection to his marriage to Pauline - **to examine the tracks in the snow. He dusted a little snow from his knee and walked back to where Salt Peter stood, nervously shifting from one foot to another.**

**"Has he been causing a lot of trouble?" the Ranger asked, and the old farmer nodded rapidly, several times.**

**"That he has, sir! That he has! Killed three dogs. Tore up fields and fences, he has. And as near as anything, killed my son-in-law when he tried to stop him. Like I said, sir, he's a bad 'un!"**

"Assuming none of that was blown out of proportion, that sounds like a nasty boar," Gilan mused.

**Halt rubbed his chin thoughtfully.**

**"Hmmm," he said. "Well, there's no question that we'd better do something about it." He looked up at the sun, sitting low to the horizon in the western sky, then turned to Will. "How much daylight would you say is left, Will?"**

**Will studied the position of the sun. These days, Halt never missed and opportunity to teach him or question him or test his knowledge and developing skills. He knew it was best to consider carefully before making an answer. Halt preferred accurate replies, not fast ones.**

**"A little over an hour?" Will said.**

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Gilan said, once again perfectly imitating Halt.

Halt snarled at him.

**"Are you asking me, or telling me?" Halt said. Will shook his head, annoyed at himself.**

**"A little over an hour, he replied more confidently, and this time, the Ranger nodded agreement.**

**"Correct." He turned to the old farmer again. "Very well, Salt Peter, I want you to take a message to Baron Arald."**

**"Baron Arald?" the farmer asked nervously. Halt frowned again.**

"I don't bite, you know," Arald huffed.

"No, you just discredit and exile your older brother in order to seize control of Redmont fief," Rodney deadpanned. Most of the younger generation looked up in surprise. They hadn't heard _this_ story.

(Crowley and Pauline, of course, had been there and remained utterly unaffected.)

Arald jabbed a finger in Rodney's direction. _"Context,_ Rodney. _Context._ It's very important. And you had a role in that too!" He added, scowling as his old friend snickered.

**"Seen what you've done?" he said to Will. "You've got him answering questions with questions now!"**

**"Sorry," Will mumbled, grinning in spite of himself. Halt shook his head and continued speaking to Salt Peter.**

**"That's right, Baron Arald. You'll find his castle a couple of kilometers along this track."**

**Salt Peter peered under one hand, looking along the track as if he could see the castle already. "A castle, you say?" he said in a wondering tone. "I've never seen a castle!"**

Halt gritted his teeth.

**Halt sighed impatiently. Keeping this old chatterbox's mind on the subject was beginning to make him short-tempered.**

Most present sniggered.

**"That's right, a castle. Now, go to the guard at the gate..."**

**"Is it a big castle?" asked the old fellow.**

**"It's a _huge_ castle!" Halt roared at him. Salt Peter bounded back in fright. He had a hurt look on his face.**

"Because Halt ruptured his eardrums," Will muttered.

 **"No need to bellow, young man,"** Crowley snorted at 'young', **he said huffily. "I were** \- _was_ \- **asking, is all."**

**"Well then, stop interrupting me," said the Ranger, "We're wasting time here. Now, are you listening?"**

"He'd better have been, or I would have put an arrow in him," Halt muttered.

"Dear..."

**Salt Peter nodded.**

**"Good," Halt continued. "Go to the guard on the gate and say you have a message from Halt for Baron Arald."**

"And here he goes," Halt muttered.

**A look of recognition spread across the old man's face. "Halt?" he asked. "Not the Ranger Halt?"**

"How many Halts does he know, exactly?" Horace wondered.

"One too many," Halt muttered.

**Yes," replied Halt wearily. "The Ranger Halt."**

**"The one who led the ambush on Morgarath's Wargals?" asked Salt Peter.**

**"The same," said Halt, in a dangerously low voice. Salt Peter looked around him.**

**"Well," he said. "Where is he?"**

"This man," Gilan started, grinning broadly, "has no survival instinct."

_**"I'm Halt!"** _ **The Ranger thundered at him, placing his face a few centimeters from Salt Peter's as he did so. Again, the old farmer recoiled a few steps.**

"No, I change my mind. _This_ is when Halt blew out his eardrums," Will decided.

**Then he gathered his courage and shook his head in disbelief.**

**"No, no, no," he said defiantly. "You can't be him. Why, the Ranger Halt is as tall as two men - and as broad. A giant of a man, he is. Brave, fierce in battle, he is."**

Halt didn't say a word, but everyone present could practically feel the _what-are-you-implying_ rolling off him.

**"You couldn't be him."**

**Halt turned away, trying to regain his temper. Will couldn't help the smile breaking out on his face again.**

Halt glared at him. Will shifted his chair away.

**"I...am...Halt," said the Ranger, spacing his words out so that Salt Peter couldn't make any mistake. "I was taller when I was young, and a lot broader. But now I'm this size." He thrust his glittering eyes close to the farmer's and glared at him. "Do you understand?"**

**"Well, if you say so..." said Salt Peter. He still didn't believe the Ranger, but there was a very dangerous gleam in Halt's eyes that warned him in would not be wise to disagree any further.**

"Finally, _finally,_ he shows some common sense," Halt complained.

**"Good," said Halt icily. "Now, tell the Baron that Halt and Will..."**

**Salt Peter opened his mouth to ask another question.**

"He's worse than you are, Will," Halt grumbled.

Will made an objectioning noise in his throat.

**Halt clamped a hand over the old man's mouth immediately and pointed to where Will stood beside Tug.**

**"That's Will there," Salt Peter nodded, his eyes wide over the hand that was clamped firmly over his mouth, stopping any further questions or interruptions. The Ranger continued:**

**"Tell him Halt and Will are tracking a wild boar. When we find its lair, we'll return to the castle. In the meantime, the Baron should gather his men for a hunt tomorrow morning."**

**He slowly took his hand down from the farmer's mouth. "Have you got all that?" the Ranger asked. Salt Peter nodded carefully. "Then repeat it back to me," Halt prompted.**

**"Go to the castle, tell the gate guard I have a message from you...Halt...for the Baron. Tell the Baron that you...Halt...and him...Will...are tracking a wild boar to find its lair. Tell him to have his men ready for a hunt tomorrow."**

**"Good," said Halt. He gestured to will and the two of them swung back into their saddles. Salt Peter stood uncertainly on the track, looking up at them.**

**"Off you go," said Halt, pointing in the direction of the castle.**

**The old farmer went back a few paces, then, when he judged he was at a safe distance** \- "Did he forget about the longbows?" Halt wondered - **he turned around and called back at the grim-faced Ranger:**

 **"I don't believes** **you** _-_ _believe_ you - **you know! Nobody grows shorter and thinner!"**

A muscle under Halt's eye jumped.

**Halt sighed and turned his horse away into the forest.**


	20. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny reads Chapter Nineteen of Ruins of Gorlan. A boar hunt ensues.

Sir Rodney passed the book over to Jenny, who beamed at him and began to read.

**They rode slowly through the failing light, learning sideways in their saddles to follow the trail left by the boar.**

**They had no trouble tracking him. The huge body had left a deep trench in the thick snow. Even without the snow, Will thought, it would have been easy. The boar was obviously in a very bad temper. It had slashed at the surrounding trees and shrubs with its tusks as it went, leaving a clear-cut path of destruction through the forest.**

**"Halt?" he said tentatively, when they had done a kilometer or so into the dense trees.**

**"Mmmm?" said Halt, a little absently.**

Crowley's eyebrows went up at the word _absently._ Since when did Halt do anything _absently?_

**"Why bother the Baron? Couldn't we simply kill the boar with our bows?"**

Gilan snorted. Horace looked at him, one eyebrow half-raised.

"Halt managed it," he pointed out quietly.

Gilan spread his hands in a _there you go_ gesture. "He's _Halt._ He specializes in doing the impossible."

Halt himself decided to speak up at this point. "I think you'll find, Gilan, that Will had already shot the boar twice before I finished it off."

**Halt shook his head.**

**"He's a big one, Will. You can see the size of the trail he's left. We could take half a dozen arrows to kill him, and even then he'd take time to die. With a brute like this, it's better to make sure."**

**"How do we do that?"**

**Halt looked up for a second. "I suppose you've never seen a boar hunt?"**

**Will shook his head. Halt reined in for a few seconds to explain and Will brought Tug to a stop beside him.**

**"Well, first," said the Ranger, "we'll need dogs. That's another reason why we can't simply finish him off with our bows. When we find him, he'll have most likely gone to ground in a thicket or in dense bushes where we can't get at him. The dogs will drive him out and we'll have a ring of men around the lair with boar spears."**

**"And they throw them at him?" Will asked. Halt shook his head.**

"Not if they have any sense," Arald and Rodney said, in perfect sync.

"Gorlog's hairy ears, they're assimilating..." Halt muttered.

Lady Pauline suppressed a smile. "Dear..."

**"Not if they have any brains," he said. "The boar spear is more than two meters long, with a double-sided blade and a crosspiece set behind the blade. The idea is to make the boar charge at the spearman. Then he sets the butt of the spear in the ground and lets the boar run onto it. The cross piece stops the boar running right down the shaft and getting the spearman."**

**Will looked doubtful. "That sounds dangerous."**

"That's why it's fun."

**The Ranger nodded. "It is. But men like the Baron and Sir Rodney and the other knights love it. They wouldn't miss the chance of a boar hunt for the world."**

**"What about you?" asked Will. "Will you have a boar spear?"**

It was Halt's turn to snort now.

**Halt shook his head. "I'll be sitting right here on Abelard," he said.** **"And you'll be on Tug, in case the boar breaks through the ring of men**   
**around him. Or in case he's just wounded and gets away."**

**"What do we do it that happens?" Will asked.**

**"We run him down before he can go to ground again," said Halt grimly. "And _then_ we will kill him with our bows."**

"Correction: _Halt_ will kill him with his bow because I was busy hiding behind a tree," Will said with a bit of a grin.

"The boar was charging you, Will. And you did shoot it. Twice, as I recall," Halt corrected him gently. The boy could be too hard on himself sometimes.

**The following day was a Saturday and, after breakfast, the Battleschool students were free to spend the day as they pleased. In Horace's case, this usually meant trying to stay out of sight whenever Alda, Bryn and** **Jerome came looking for him.**

Growls from all around, but the loudest came from Will and Cassandra. Especially Cassandra.

**But lately they'd realized he was avoiding them and had taken to waiting for him outside the mess hall. As he came out onto the parade ground this morning, he saw them waiting, smiling at him. He hesitated. It was too late to turn back. With a sinking heart, he continued on toward them.**

"What happened this time?" Alyss whispered to Will, who was wearing a dangerous, thin-lipped smile eerily similar to Halt's.

"We'll see," Will murmured back.

**"Horace!" He was startled by a voice coming from right behind him. He turned and saw Sir Rodney watching him, a curious look in eyes as he glanced at the three second-year cadets waiting in the yard.**

"Excellent timing, sir," Horace said, heartfelt. Sir Rodney managed a smile.

**Horace wondered if the Battlemaster knew about the treatment he was getting. He assumed he did. Horace guessed it was part of the toughening process of Battleschool.**

"It most certainly _is not!"_ Sir Rodney snapped angrily.

**"Sir!" he replied, wondering what he'd done wrong. Rodney's features** **softened and he smiled at the young man. He seemed extraordinarily** **pleased about something.  
**

**"Relax, Horace. It's Saturday, after all. Ever been on a boar hunt?"**

**"Um…no, sir." In spite of Sir Rodney's invitation to relax, he** **remained stiffly at attention.**

**"Time you did then. Draw a boar spear and hunting knife from the** **armory, have Ulf assign you a horse and report back here in twenty** **minutes."  
**

Gilan's eyes widened at the name _Ulf_ and he promptly collapsed into silent giggles. King Duncan seemed to be suppressing a smile, and Cassandra was also giggling. Everyone else looked puzzled.

Gilan took a deep breath and explained himself. "There was an Ulf onboard the _Heron_ \- the Skandian dutyship I went with to Arridia, remember I told you about?" he added, looking to Crowley, Halt, and Will, who of course remembered the entire tale. "I never quite made the connection before - " (because the author hadn't read Brotherband Chronicles when she wrote the third and fourth chapters of this ridiculous little fanfiction).

Jenny continued reading, trying to stifle her giggles.

**"Yes, sir," Horace replied. Sir Rodney rubbed his hands together with** **evident pleasure.  
**

**"Seems Halt and his apprentice have scarred us up a wild boar. Time** **we all had a bit of fun." He grinned encouragingly at the apprentice,** **than strode away eagerly to get his own equipment ready. When Horace** **turned back to the yard, he noticed that Alda, Bryn and Jerome were** **nowhere to be seen. He might have thought more about why the three** **bullies would disappear when Sir Rodney was around, but he had too much** **on his mind, wondering what he'd be expected to do in a boar hunt.**

"Very little, if it's your first hunt," Baron Arald offered.

**It was midmorning by the time Halt led the hunting party to the boar's** **lair.**

**The huge animal had gone to ground in a dense clump of undergrowth deep** **inside the forest. Halt and Will had found the hiding place just before** **dark the previous evening.**

"And what fun that was," Will commented.

**Now, as they approached, Halt made a signal and the Baron and his** **hunters dismounted, leaving their horses in the care of one of the** **stable hands who had accompanied them. They covered the last few hundred** **meters on foot. Halt and Will were the only two who remained on horseback.**

**There were fifteen hunters in all, each one armed with a boar spear of** **the type Halt had described. They spread out in a wide circle as they** **came closer to the boar's lair. Will was a little surprised to recognize** **Horace as one of the hunting group. He was the only apprentice warrior** **in the party. All the others were knights.**

Horace looked surprised as well. He hadn't noticed that, having been to nervous about what he was supposed to do.

**With a hundred meters to go, Halt held up his hand, signaling the hunters to stop. He urged Abelard into a gentle trot and crossed to where Will sat nervously astride Tug.**

Horace shook his head. "And here I spent most of the time wondering how you managed to be so calm."

Will gave him a rueful little smile. "It helps if you're terrified."

**The little horse was moving restlessly as he scented the presence of the boar.**

**"Remember," the Ranger said quietly to Will, "if you have to shoot, aim for a spot just behind the left shoulder. A clean shot to the heart will be your only chance to stop him if he's charging."**

**Will nodded, licking his dry lips nervously. He reached forward and comforted Tug with a quick pat on the neck. The little horse tossed his head in response to his master's touch.**

**"And stay close to the Baron," Halt reminded him, before moving to resume his position of the opposite side of the circle of hunters.**

"Good advice," Lady Pauline commented thoughtfully.

**Halt was in the position of most danger, accompanying the hunters who were least experienced - and therefore most likely to make a mistake. If the boar broke through the ring on his side, he would be responsible for casing it down and killing it. He had assigned Will to stay with the Baron and the more experienced of the hunters, where there was less likely to be trouble. That placed him close to Horace as well. Sir Rodney had positioned the apprentice between himself and the Baron. After all, this was the boy's first hunt and the Battlemaster didn't want to take any undue risks. Horace was there to watch and learn. If the boar charged in their direction, he was to let the Baron or Sir Rodney take care of it.**

"Which worked out splendidly," Sir Rodney said sarcastically, looking rather annoyed with himself.

"I'd say it all turned out for the best in the end, wouldn't you?" Lady Pauline pointed out.

Sir Rodney nodded, eyes flicking from Horace to Will and back again. "It did at that."

**Horace glanced up once, making eye contact with Will. There was no animosity in the look. In fact, he gave the Ranger's apprentice a strained half smile. Will realized, watching Horace lick his lips over and over again, that the other boy was every bit as nervous as he was himself.**

**Halt signaled again and the circle began closing in on the thicket.**

**As the circle became smaller, Will lost sight of his teacher and the other men on the far side of the boar's lair. He knew, from Tug's continued nervousness, that the boar must be inside the bushes still. But Tug was well trained and continued to move in as his rider urged him gently forward.**

**A deep roaring sound came from inside the thicket and Will's hair stood on end. He'd never heard the cry of an angry wild boar before. The noise was halfway between a grunt and a scream and, for a moment the hunters hesitated.**

**"He's in there all right!" called the Baron, grinning at Will with excitement. "Let's hope he comes out on our side, eh, boys?"**

**Will wasn't at all sure that he wanted the boar to come charging out on their side of the thicket. He thought that he'd like it very well if it went the other way.**

"Thank you, Will," Halt said dryly. "Trying to off your Craftmaster already, are you?"

"You would have been fine!" Will objected, looking defensive and a little guilty. Halt didn't push the issue.

**But the Baron and Sir Rodney were both grinning like schoolboys as they readied their boar spears. They were enjoying this, just as Halt had said they would. Quickly, Will unslung his bow from across his shoulders and fitted an arrow to the string. He fingered the tip for a moment, making sure it was still razor-sharp. His throat was dry. He wasn't sure that he would be able to talk if anyone spoke to him.**

**The dogs plunged against their restraining leashes, setting the echoes awake in the forest with their excited baying. It was their noise that had aroused the boar. Now, as they continued to give voice, Will could hear the huge animal slashing and cutting at the trees and shrubs in its lair with its long tusks.**

**The Baron turned to Bert, his dog handler, and made a hand signal for the hounds to be released.**

Crowley made a dramatic scene out of 'RELEASE THE HOUNDS', complete with a booming voice (which echoed very nicely, thanks to the Rule of Cool), and dramatic hand gestures.

**The big, powerful animals were gone almost instantly, flashing across the cleared space to the thicket and disappearing inside. They were sage, heavily built beasts, bred specifically for the purpose of hunting boar.**

**The noise from the thicket was indescribable. The furious baying of the dogs was joined by the blood-chilling screams of the angry boar. There was a crashing and snapping of bushes and young saplings. The very thicket seemed to shake.**

**Then, suddenly, the boar was in the clear.**

**He came out halfway around the circle, between the points where Will and Halt were stationed. With an infuriated scream, he threw off one of the dogs that still clung to him, paused for a moment. Then charged at the hunters with blinding speed.**

**The young knight directly in front of the boar's charge didn't hesitate. He dropped to one knee, bracing the butt end of his spear into the ground and presenting the gleaming point to the charging animal.**

**The boar had no chance to turn. His own rush carried him onto the spear head. He plunged upward, screaming in pain and fury, trying to dislodge the killing piece of steel. But the young knight held grimly to the spear, holding it firmly against the ground and giving the enraged animal no chance to throw it free.**

**Will watched with wide-eyed alarm as the stout ash shaft of the spear bent like a bow under the weight of the boar's rush, then the carefully sharpened tip penetrated to the animal's hear and it was all over.**

"Do the spears ever break?" Jenny wondered aloud, looking to Gilan, who made a kind of half-hearted shrugging motion.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Not often, but sometimes the spears do snap. It's...not good, when it happens."

**With one last screaming roar, the huge boar toppled sideways and lay dead.**

**The matted body was almost as large as a horse's and every inch was solid muscle. The tusks, harmless now in death, curved back over his ferocious snout. They were strained with the earth that he'd ripped up in his fury, and with the blood of at least one of the dogs.**

Will and Alyss thought of Ebony and shivered a little.

**Will looked at the massive body and shuddered. If this was a wild boar, he thought, he wasn't in any hurry to**   
**see another one.**

"Oh, if only," Horace lamented theatrically. Cassandra giggled, while King Duncan leaned forward, both eyebrows raised in surprise.

"There was _another_ boar?"

"Oh, yes," Horace nodded, and indicated Will. "Will saved my life from him."

Will flushed and mumbled something about 'would have been fine without me'.

"If you call being skewered being fine!" Horace argued, not wanting to hear it. Then he grew thoughtful. "Though mind you, it might have solved the problem with Alda, Brynn, and Jerome..."

 _"Horace_ _Altman!_ That is _not_ funny!"

Horace flinched and held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, Cassie, sorry!"

"You'd better be," the Princess muttered, hooking her arm through the crook of her husbands elbow and stubbornly refusing to let go. Not that Horace was any hurry to have her do so.


	21. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilan reads Chapter Twenty of Ruins of Gorlan. Heartwarming ensues.

Gilan took the offered book from Jenny with a smile and began to read (once again, their hands stayed touching for longer than strictly necessary).

**The other hunters crowded around the young knight who had made the kill, congratulating him and patting his back. Baron Arald started across toward him, but paused beside Tug, looking up to Will as he spoke.**

**"You won't see another that size in a long time, Will," he said gruffly.**

Will snorted.

**"Pity he didn't come our way. I would have liked a trophy like that for myself. He continued on his way toward Sir Rodney, who was already with the group of warriors around the dead boar.**

**Consequently, Will found himself, for the first time in some weeks, face-to-face with Horace.**

There was much holding of breath around the table (except from Halt, Rodney, Arald, and of course Will and Horace themselves, who all knew exactly what happened).

**There was an awkward pause, with neither boy willing to make the first move. Horace, excited by the events of the morning, his heart still pounding with the thrill of fear he'd felt when the boar first appeared, wanted to share the moment with Will. In the light of what they had just seen, their childish squabble seemed unimportant, and now he felt badly bout his behavior on that day six weeks ago. But he couldn't find the words to express his feelings and he found no encouragement to do so in Will's set features, so with a slight shrug, he started to step past Tug to go and congratulate the young hunter. As he did so, the pony stiffened and pricked his ears, giving a warning neigh.**

"This is where everything -" Will started,

"- went horribly wrong," Horace finished, and the two young men grinned at each other.

Alyss and Cassandra exchanged long-suffering looks.

**Will looked back at the thicket and his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.**

**There, standing just outside the shelter of the bushes, was another boar - even larger than the one which now lay dead in the snow.**

**"Look out!" he cried as the huge beast slashed at the earth with its tusks.**

"Not good," King Duncan commented.

 **It was a bad** **situation** \- "No, really? I though this was an ideal setup," Gilan muttered, giving the book the stink eye. **The line of hunters had broken up, most of them having moved over to marvel at the size of the dead boar and to praise its killer. Only Will and Horace remained in the path of the second boar - mainly, Will realized, because Horace had hesitated for those few vital seconds.**

**Horace spun around at Will's shout. He looked at Will, then swung to look at the new danger. The boar lowered his head, tore at the ground again and charged. It all happened with terrifying speed. One moment the huge animal was ripping the ground with its tusks. The next, it was hurtling toward them. Placing himself between Will and the boar, Horace turned without hesitation to face it, setting his spear as Sir Rodney and the Baron had shown him.**

Horace made a small noise of discomfort, and Cassandra realized the grip she had on his hand was so tight it was cutting off the circulation. She hastily loosened it.

**But as he did so, his foot slipped on an icy patch in the snow and he sprawled helplessly onto his side, the long spear falling from his grasp.**

Jenny squeaked with fear. Gilan rested one of his hands on hers, but everyone else was too engrossed in the story to offer much in the way of commentary.

**There was not a second to lose. Horace lay helpless before those murderous tusks. Will kicked his feet clear of the stirrups and dropped to the ground, sighting and drawing back the bowstring even as he did so. He knew his small bow would have no chance of stopping the boar's maddened rush. All he could hope to do was to distract the maddened animal, to turn it away from the helpless boy on the ground.**

**He fired and instantly ran to one side, away from the fallen apprentice. He yelled at the top of his lungs and fired again.**

**The arrows stuck out of the boar's thick hide like needles in a pincushion. They did it no serious harm, but the pain of them burned through the animal like a hot knife.**

"But doing much less damage," Arald murmured.

**Its red, angry eyes fastened on the small, capering figure to one side and, furiously, it swung after Will.**

**There was no time to fire again. Horace was safe for the moment.**

"And _you_ are not," Alyss interrupted, fixing Will with her patented _you-are-an-idiot-but-you-somehow-managed-to-do-the-right-thing-anyway_ look.

**Now Will himself was in danger. He sprinted for the shelter of a tree and ducked behind it - just in time.**

**The boar's enraged charge carried it straight into the trunk of the tree. Its huge body crashed against the trunk, shaking it to its roots, sending showers of snow cascading out of its upper branches.**

Several members of the group winced.

**Amazingly, the boar seemed unaffected by the crash. It backed up a few paces and charged at Will again. The boy darted around the tree trunk again, narrowly avoiding the slashing tusks as the boar thundered by.**

**Screaming in fury, the huge animal spun in its tracks, skidding in the snow, and came at him again. This time, it came more slowly, giving Will no chance to dart to one side at the last moment.**

Everyone at the table - Jenny included - knew what the tusks of a wild boar could do to a person. Some, like King Duncan, Sir Rodney, Crowley, Halt, and Baron Arald, had seen it firsthand. The air was fraught with tension as Gilan read on.

**The boar came at a trot, fury in its red eyes, tusks slashing from side to side, its hot breath steaming in the freezing winter air.**

**Behind him, Will could hear the shouts of the hunters, but he knew they'd arrive too late to help him. He nocked another arrow, knowing that he had no chance of hitting a vital spot as the pig came at him head-on.**

"Don't waste your arrows" Halt said, more to himself than anyone else, but Will heard him anyway.

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Stand there and wait to be gored?"

**"No, Tug!" Will screamed, in an agony of fear for his horse. But the pony charged at the huge boar, spinning in his tracks and lashing out with his rear hooves as he came within range. Tug's rear hooves caught the pig in the ribs and, with all the force of the pony's upper legs behind it, sent the boar rolling sideways in the snow.**

There were cheers from the table, and congratulations for Tug. Will, very proud of his little horse, was grinning from ear to ear.

**The boar was up in an instant, even more furious than before. The pony had caught him off balance, but the kick had done no serious damage. Now, the boar slashed and cut at Tug as the little pony neighed in fear and danced sideways out of the reach of those razor-sharp tusks.**

**"Tug! Get clear!" Will screamed again. His heart was in his throat. If those tusks caught the vulnerable tendons in the horse's lower legs, Tug would be crippled for life. He couldn't stand by and watch his horse put himself in such peril for his master. He drew and fired again and, dragging the long Ranger knife from his belt, charged across the snow at the huge furious beast.**

_Because that was going to help,_ Will reflected sheepishly.

Halt's eyebrow was raised, though perhaps not in incredulity.

**The third arrow struck the pig in the side. Again, he had missed a vulnerable spot and only wounded the monster. He yelled at it as he ran, screaming for Tug to get clear. The boar saw him coming, recognizing the small figure that had first driven it to such fury.**

"You have something of a talent for that, as I recall," Baron Arald joked, his eyes twinkling. Will just laughed.

**Its red, hate-filled eyes fastened upon him and its head lowered for a final, killing charge.**

**Will saw the muscles bunch in the massive hindquarters. He was too far from cover to run. He'd have to face the charge here in the open. He dropped to one knee and, hopelessly, held out the keen bladed Ranger knife in front of him as the boar charged. Dimly, he heard Horace's hoarse cry as the apprentice warrior charged forward to help him, his spear at the ready.**

**Then a deep, whistling _hiss_ cut across the sound of the boar's hooves, followed by a solid, meaty SMACK! The boar reared up in midstride, twisting in sudden agony, and fell, dead as a stone, in the snow.**

The table let out a collective sigh of relief as Gilan read that part aloud with a sense of finality.

**Halt's heavy-shafted, long arrow was almost buried in its side, driven there by the full power of the Ranger's mighty longbow. He'd struck the charging monster right behind the left shoulder, driving the head of the arrow into and through the pig's massive heart.**

**A perfect shot.**

"As usual," Crowley said, without a trace of his usual snark, inclining his head towards his friend.

**Halt's reined in Abelard in a shower or snow and hurled himself to the ground, throwing his arms around the shaking boy. Will, overcome with relief, buried his face into the rough cloth of the Ranger's cloak. He didn't want anyone to see the tears of relief that were streaming down his face.**

Alyss sighed inwardly. What was it with men and their stigma of crying? In Toscana, a man was expected to cry. In fact, if they didn't cry when one of their fellows died, they were seen as insensitive cowards.

Though perhaps that wasn't the point, she conceded, and took Will's hand in hers.

**Gently, Halt took the knife from Will's hand.**

**"What on earth were you hoping to do with this?" he asked.**

"Not die," Will answered.

**Will simply shook his head. He couldn't speak. He felt Tug's soft muzzle butting gently against him and looked up into the big intelligent eyes.**

**Then it was all noise and confusion as the hunters gathered around, marveling at the size of the second boar and slapping Will on the back for his courage.**

"I didn't _do_ anything!" Will complained with a groan.

Horace look at him. "You saved my life," he reminded his friend quietly. "I wouldn't call that nothing."

Will opened his mouth to retort, then, paused, closed his mouth, and reddened a little.

**He stood among them, a small figure, ashamed still of the tears that slid down his cheeks, no matter how hard he tried to stop them.**

**He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find he was looking into Horace's eyes - and the apprentice warrior was shaking his head slowly in admiration and disbelief.**

**"You saved my life," he said. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen."**

**Will tried to shrug the other boy's thanks aside, but Horace pressed on. He remembered all the times in the past when he'd teased Will, when he'd bullied him.**

Horace was shrinking into his seat again. Cassandra hissed something in his head and pulled him upright again, where he stayed, rather pink in the face.

**Now, acting instinctively, the smaller boy had saved him from those murderous, slashing tusks. It said something for Horace's growing maturity that he had forgotten his own instinctive action, when he had placed himself between the charging boar and the apprentice Ranger.**

**"But why, Will? After all, we..."**

"...routinely tried to punch each other's faces in." Will finished sheepishly. "Sorry about that..."

Horace waved his apology away.

**He couldn't bring himself to finish the statement, but Will somehow knew what was in his mind.**

**"Horace, we may have fought in the past," he said. "But I don't hate you. I never hated you."**

**Horace nodded once, a look of understanding coming over his face. Then he seemed to come to a decision. "I owe you my life, Will," he said in a determined voice. "I'll never forget that debt. If ever you need a friend, if ever you need help, you can call on me."  
**

"If I remember right, you got there before I could," Will pointed out, smiling. Horace flushed and grinned, remembering the satisfaction he'd gotten from beating the three bullies into a pulp.

**The two boys faced each other for a moment, then Horace thrust out his hand and Will took it. The circle of knights around them was silent, witnessing, but not wanting to interrupt, this important moment for the two boys. Then Baron Arald stepped forward and put his arms around the both.**

**"Well said, both of you!" he said heartily, and the knights chorused their assent.**

**The Baron grinned delightedly. It had been a perfect morning, all told.**

"Aside from Horace and I almost getting _mauled,"_ Will pointed out.

"Ah, details," Sir Rodney said, waving that bit of information aside with a chuckle.

**A bit of excitement. Two huge boars killed. And now two of his wards forging the sort of special bond that only came from shared danger.**

**"We've got two fine young men here!" he said to the group at large, and again there was that hearty chorus of assent. "Halt, Rodney, you can both be proud of your apprentices!"**

"Indeed," both men said at the same time, looking at their respective apprentice (before looking thoroughly mortified at having agreed with each other).

Will and Horace both flushed and stared at the table, grinning.

 **"Indeed we are, my lord," Sir Rodney replied. He nodded approvingly at Horace. He'd seen the way the boy had turned without hesitation to face the charge.** Halt gave Will a look that said _see I told you._ **And he approved of Horace's open offer of friendship to Will. He remembered all too well seeing them fighting on Harvest Day. It seemed such childish squabbles were behind them now -**

"See, Horace? It was a childish squabble. Stop feeling guilty!" Cassandra told her husband, scowling at him.

Horace managed a slight smile. Cassandra let out a sigh of despair. _You see what I have to live with?_ She asked Alyss silently, in the way that women often do.

Alyss merely smiled.

**\- and he felt a deep satisfaction that he had chosen Horace for Battleschool.**

"It would have been a criminal waste not to," King Duncan said quietly.

**Halt for his part, said nothing. But when Will turned to look at his mentor, the grizzled Ranger met his eye, and simply nodded.**

**And that, Will knew, was the equivalent of three hearty cheers from Halt.**

"Truer words were never spoken," Crowley said, nodding.

"He got it from Pritchard," Arald muttered.


	22. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horace reads Chapter Twenty-One of Ruins of Gorlan. Um...yeah.
> 
> ...sorry, Horace.

Gilan passed the book to Horace, who accepted it with a grin.

**In the days following the boar hunt, Will noticed a change in the way he was treated. There was a certain deference, even respect, in the way people spoke to him and looked at him as he passed. It was most noticeable among the people of the village. Being simple folk, with rather limited boundaries to their day-to-day lives, they tended to glamorize and exaggerate any event that was in any way out of the ordinary.**

"Isn't that the truth," Rodney said ruefully, exchanging a look with Baron Arald. The latter merely rolled his eyes. Halt found himself agreeing with the two knights.

**By the end of the first week, the events of the hunt had been so blown out of proportion that they had Will single-handedly killing both boars as they charged out of the thicket.**

Will choked in disbelief. He'd completely forgotten about that part - and wondered how on Earth it had gotten blown that badly out of proportion.

**A couple of days after that, to hear the story related, you could almost believe that he had accomplished the feat with one arrow, firing it clean through the first boar and into the heart of the second.**

Crowley nearly fell off his chair laughing. "Oh, come on!" he managed. "That is patently ridiculous."

"I _know_ it is! That's the point!" Will complained. Crowley still didn't stop laughing.

**"I really didn't do too much at all," he said to Halt one evening, as they sat by the fire in the warm little cottage they shared on the edge of the forest. "I mean, it's not as if I thought it through and decided to do it. It just sort of happened. And after all, you killed the boar, not me."**

**Halt merely nodded, staring fixedly at the leaping yellow flames in the grate.**

**"People will think what they want to," he said quietly. "Never take too much notice of it."**

"Good advice," King Duncan said with a nod. Rodney and Arald made noises of agreement.

**Nevertheless, Will was troubled by the adulation. He felt people were making an altogether too big thing out of it all. He would have enjoyed the respect if it had been based on what had actually happened. In his heart, he felt he had done something worthwhile, and perhaps even honorable.**

"Oh, well, good to know you value your friend's life to highly!" Cassandra teased. Will made various confused, exasperated, and frustrated gestures that were not accompanied by sound, but sent Crowley further into helpless laughter.

Halt was, of course, not amused.

**But he was being lionized for a totally fictional account of events and, being an essentially honest person, he couldn't really take any pride in that.**

**He also felt a little embarrassed because he was one of the few people who had noticed Horace's original, instinctively courageous action, placing himself between the charging boar and Will and Tug.**

"Which I notice never gets mentioned," Will said dryly, raising an eyebrow at Horace. Horace flushed a little, but grinned.

**Will had mentioned this last fact to Halt. He felt that perhaps the Ranger might have an opportunity to appraise Sir Rodney of Horace's unselfish action, but his teacher had merely nodded and said briefly:**

**"Sir Rodney knows. He doesn't miss much. He's got a little more up top than the average bash and whacker."**

"Oh thank you so much," Rodney said dryly.

"Don't bother, Rodney. It's high praise, coming from him," Crowley deadpanned. Halt glared at them both.

Lady Pauline smiled slightly.

**And with that, Will had to be content.**

**Around the castle, with the knights from the Battleschool and the various craftmasters and apprentices, the attitudes were different. There Will enjoyed a simple acceptance, and recognition of the fact that he had done well. He noticed that people tended to know his name now, so they greeted him as well as Halt when the two of them had business in the castle grounds. The Baron himself was friendlier than ever. It was a source of pride to him to see one of his castle wards acquit himself well.**

The Baron in question nodded. He was very proud of his Wards - all of them, but particularly Will and Horace (and, almost by extension, Lady Alyss as well).

**The one person Will would have liked to discuss it all with was Horace himself. But as their paths seldom crossed, the opportunity hadn't arisen. He wanted to make sure that the warrior apprentice knew that Will set no store by the ridiculous stories that had swept the village, and he hoped that his former wardmate knew he had done nothing to spread the rumors.**

"Of course not," Horace said, sounding incredulous. The very notion that Will would do something like that was foreign to him. Will grinned back at his friend, but his insides still writhed uneasily at the idea.

**In the meantime, Will's lessons and training proceeded at an accelerated pace. In a month's time, Halt had told him, they would be leaving for the Gathering - an annual event in the Rangers' calendar.**

A quiet _ah_ passed through the Rangers present, and Gilan grinned a little. The non-Rangers all looked very intrigued at the prospect of hearing about a Ranger's Gathering.

**This was the time when all fifty Rangers came together to exchange news, to discuss any problems that might have arisen throughout the kingdom and to make plans. Of greater importance to Will, it was also the time when apprentices were assessed, to see if they were fit to progress to the next year of their training.**

"As if there would be any doubt," Halt muttered to himself. Unfortunately, he didn't say it quite quietly enough, and Will's face split into a huge, startled grin.

**It was bad luck for Will that he had only been in training for seven months. If he didn't pass the assessment at this year's Gathering, he would have to wait another year, until the next opportunity arose.**

"You would be _fine,"_ Gilan said, rolling his eyes with a smile. Will's cheeks heated up a little.

"Only because of all the practice Halt made me do," he said, looking over to his mentor, who's face remained as inscrutable as ever. "Without it, I would have been hopeless."

**As a result, he practiced and practiced from dawn till dusk each day. The idea of a Saturday holiday was a long forgotten luxury to him.**

"What on Earth is a Saturday holiday?" Crowley wondered aloud. This time, Gilan joined in with Crowley's laughter.

**He fired arrow after arrow into targets of different sizes, in different conditions, from standing, kneeling, sitting positions. He even fired from hidden positions in trees.**

Halt nodded in silent approval.

**And he practiced with his knives. Standing to throw, kneeling, sitting, diving to the left, diving to the right. He practiced throwing the larger of the two knives so that it struck its target hilt first. After all, as Halt said, sometimes you only needed to stun the person were throwing at, so was a good idea to know how to do it.**

Will was reminded very specifically of a certain incident involving a certain Genovesan assassin and loosing his strikers.

**He practiced his stealth skills, learning to stay stock-still even when he was sure that he had been discovered and learning that, all too often, people simply didn't notice him until he actually did move and gave the game away.**

"More standard Ranger wisdom," Crowley mused, with an approving nod at Will (and Halt).

Gilan nodded. "Of course," he said.

**Will learned the trick that searchers would use, letting their gaze pass over a spot and then flicking back instantly to catch any slight movement. He learned about sweepers - the rear scouts who would follow silently behind a party on the move to catch out anyone who might have remained unseen, then broken cover when the party had gone pass.**

Cassandra recalled how the Wargals had done exactly that in Celtica and shivered, pressed herself against Horace, who wrapped his arm around her and murmured something reassuring in her ear.

**He worked with Tug, strengthening the bond and affection that had taken root so quickly between the two of them. He learned to use the little horse's extra senses of smell and hearing to give him warning of any danger and he learned the signals that the horse was trained to send to its rider.**

Will smiled at the memories of working with his little horse.

**So it was little wonder that, at the end of the day, Will had no inclination to walk up the winding path that led to Castle Redmont and find Horace so that he could discuss things with him. He accepted that, sooner or later, the chance would come. In the meantime, he could only hope that Horace was being given credit for his actions by Sir Rodney and the other members of the Battleschool.**

Horace snorted violently. Sir Rodney winced, teeth grinding furiously. _How?_ he wondered angrily. _How did I miss this?_

**Unfortunately for Horace, it seemed that nothing could be further from the truth.**

The entire table groaned, and Horace got a resigned look on his face as he continued reading.

**Sir Rodney was puzzled by the muscular young apprentice. He seemed to have all the qualities that the Battleschool was looking for.**

Horace smiled briefly when he read that.

**He was brave.**

Halt nodded in agreement.

**He followed orders immediately and he was still showing extraordinary skill in his weapons training.**

"And somehow, that manages to be an understatement," King Duncan mused.

**But his class work was below standard. Assignments were handed in late or sloppily finished. He seemed to have trouble paying attention to his instructors - as if he were distracted all the time. One top of that, it was suspected that he had a predilection for fighting.**

Horace snorted violently at that. Sir Rodney grimaced.

**None of the staff had ever witnessed him fighting, but he was often seen to be sporting bruises and minor contusions -**

_"What?!"_ Cassandra shrieked. Horace winced and covered his ears (Cassandra's shrieking was rather painful at close range), and Cassandra quickly apologized. She waved for him to continue reading, nostrils flaring angrily.

**and he seemed to have made no close friends among his classmates. On the contrary, they took pains to steer clear of him. It all served to create a picture of an argumentative, antisocial, lazy recruit who had a certain amount of skill at arms.**

_"Honestly,"_ Cassandra hissed. Sir Rodney looked _very_ guilty. Horace murmured a few quiet words to Cassandra that nobody else quite caught.

**All things considered, and with a great deal of reluctance, the Battlemasters was beginning to feel that he would have to expel Horace from Battleschool. All the evidence seemed to point in that direction. Yet his instincts told him he was wrong. That there was some other factor he wasn't aware of.**

"Three, in fact," Horace mused.

**In point of fact, there were three other factors: Alda, Bryn and Jerome. And even as the Battlemaster was considering the future of his newest recruit, they had Horace surrounded once more.**

Will snarled something uncomplimentary about Alda, Bryn, and Jerome under his breath. Alyss snorted. Sir Rodney's eyebrow was beginning to twitch, and King Duncan seemed to be quietly seething on his daughter's other side.

**It seemed that each time Horace managed to find a place where he could escape their attentions, the three older students tracked him down. Of course, this wasn't difficult for them, as they had a network of spies and informants among the other younger boys who were afraid of them, both in and outside the Battleschool.**

Sir Rodney actually snarled at this, furious that these three's little empire had grown so out of control as to extend beyond his own Battleschool - and right under his nose. His fists were clenched, and Baron Arald kicked him lightly under the table, to remind him where he was.

**This time, they had cornered Horace behind the armory, in a quiet spot that he had discovered a few days before. He was hemmed in against the stone wall of the armory building, the three bullies standing in a half circle before him. Each of them carried a thick cane and Alda had a piece of heavy sacking folded over one arm.**

Will and Gilan, guessing where this was going, both snarled under their breath, leaving Alyss and Jenny to remind them that breaking the table would do nobody any good.

**"We've been looking for you, Baby," said Alda. Horace said nothing. His eyes shifted from one to the other as he wondered which of them would be the first to make a move.**

**"Baby made a fool of the entire Battleschool."**

"You three are doing a _fine_ job of that on your own," Sir Rodney growled.

**That was Jerome. Horace frowned, puzzled by their words. He had no idea what they were talking about. Alda's next statement made it clear.**

**"Baby had to be rescued from the big, bad boar," he said.**

**"By a little, creeping apprentice sneaker," Bryn added, the sneer heavy in his tone.**

Halt growled low in his throat.

**"And that makes us all look bad."**

Sir Rodney snarled something about "doing a good of that without his help" but he was angry enough that he couldn't quite talk straight anymore.

**Jerome shoved him against the shoulder as he spoke, pushing him back against the rough stone of the wall. His face was red and Horace knew he was building himself up for something. Horace's hands bunched into fist at his side. Jerome saw the action.**

King Duncan had gone very still, and his face very hard - something that spelled _danger_ to the person who had raised his ire. Luckily for Bryn, Alda, and Jerome, they were somewhere in Picta, slaving away in the mines.

**"Don't threaten me, Baby! Time you learned a lesson." He stepped forward threateningly. Horace turned to face him and, in the same instant, knew he had made a mistake. Jerome's move was a feint.**

There were groans of despair from the assembled listeners, and a slight splintering sound as Horace's fingers dug into the wooden table.

**The real attack came from Alda, who whipped a heavy hessian sack over Horace's head before he could resist, pulling a drawcord tight so that he was contained from the waist up, blinded and helpless.**

The screech of wood on stone startled the group out of the story. They looked over to see a red-faced Sir Rodney being pulled back into his seat, teeth bared, by an equally furious but marginally more composed Baron Arald.

**He felt several loops of the drawcord falling over his shoulders to fasten it, then the blows began.**

Cassandra's nails were digging painfully into Horace's arm, making him wince. She let go hastily and recomposed herself, but her face still screamed _danger_ for the three bullies.

**He staggered blindly, helpless to defend himself as the three boys rained blows down on him from the heavy canes they had been carrying. He blundered into the wall and fell, unable to break his fall with his arms immobilized by his side.**

Horace winced and rubbed his jaw. Will's eyes were narrowed - almost as if he were lining up a shot with his bow.

**The blows continued, falling on his unprotected head, his arms and his legs as the three boys continued their mindless litany of hate.**

**"Call for the sneaker to save you now, Baby."**

**"This is for making us all look like fools."**

_"Doing a fine job of that on your own..."_ Sir Rodney hissed furiously.

**"Learn respect for your Battleschool, Baby."**

**On and on it went as he writhed on the ground, trying in vain to escape the blows. It was the worst beating they had ever given him and they continued until, gradually, mercifully, he fell still, semiconscious.**

King Duncan's mouth was pressed into a line so thin his lips had almost disappeared. It was difficult to say who was more still - Halt, who's thunderous expression could have been carved out of stone, or the King, who could easily have been a statue. And _still_ meant _fury._

**They each hit him a few more times, then Alda dragged the sack clear. Horace drew in one giant shuddering breath of fresh air. He ached and hurt viciously in every part of his body.**

Will's eyes were darting between Cassandra, King Duncan, and Horace, wondering who was going to snap first - Horace, from sheer stress; Cassandra, from righteous indignation on her husband's behalf; or King Duncan, out of rage.

**From a long distance away, he heard Bryn's voice.**

Will growled a little at that.

**"Now let's teach the sneaker the same lesson." The others laughed and he heard them moving away. He groaned softly, longing for the release of unconsciousness, wanting to let himself sink into its dark, welcoming arms so that the pain would go away, at least for a while.**

**Then the full import of Bryn's words struck him. They were going to five the same treatment to Will-for the ridiculous reason that they felt his action in saving Horace had somehow belittled them and their Battleschool. With a gigantic effort, he pushed the welcoming folds of darkness back and struggled to his feet, moaning with the pain, chest heaving, head spinning, as he supported himself against the wall. He remembered his promise to Will: _If you ever need a friend, you can call on me._**

**It was time to make good on that promise.**

Horace snapped the book shut and slammed it onto the table, the muscles in his jaw working furiously. Cassandra pushed it to the center and turned to her husband, speaking quietly. Crowley, Gilan, and Jenny, who had been very quiet throughout the chapter, all reached for the book, but Baron Arald snapped it up first, placing a hand over it. Jenny retreated instantly, followed shortly by Gilan. Crowley hesitated, raising his eyebrows in Arald's direction and silently asking if he wanted him to read it.

Baron Arald shook his head.


	23. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baron Arald reads Chapter Twenty-two of Ruins of Gorlan. Asskicking ensues.

After Horace had managed to regain his composure, Baron Arald flipped through the pages to find his the start of the next chapter. He began reading, voice stony.

**Will was in the open meadow behind Halt's cottage, practicing. He had four targets set up at different ranges and was alternating his shots at random between the four of them, never firing at the same one twice in a row. Halt had set the exercise for him before he had gone to the Baron's office to discuss a dispatch that had come in from the king.**

King Duncan narrowed his eyes in an attempt to recall which dispatch this might have been. He thought it might have been the one regarding the various sudden deaths among his military commanders.

**"If you fire twice at the same target," he had said, "you'll begin to rely on the first shot to determine your direction and elevation. That way, you'll never learn to shoot instinctively. You'll always need to fire a sighting shot first."**

Without quite realizing it, Rodney was nodding in agreement. He applied similar principals in Battleschool, insisting that no drill have the same strike twice in a row - in fact, he was against any kind of repetition at all. When repetition _did_ rear its ugly head, cadets tended to swing a weak sighting strike before committing to a second.

**Will knew his teacher was right. But that didn't make the exercise any easier.**

"It never does," Gilan agreed with a grin. Jenny stifled a laugh as Halt turned to glare at his former apprentice.

**To add to the difficulty, Halt had stipulated that he should let no more than five seconds elapse between each shot.**

"Five seconds?" Cassandra repeated, raising her eyebrows. Halt shrugged.

"Five seconds is a surprising amount of time - particularly in a fight," he added.

**Frowning in concentration, he let the last five arrows of a set go. One after the other, in rapid succession, they flashed across the meadow, thudding into the targets. Will, his quiver empty for the tenth time that morning, stopped to survey the results. He nodded in satisfaction. Every arrow had hit a target, and most of them were clustered in the inner ring or the bull's-eye itself.**

Crowley grinned. "Not bad for a first year trainee," he said admiringly. Will flushed with pride. Alyss merely smiled.

**It was shooting of an exceptionally high quality and it proved to him the value of constant practice. He wasn't to know it, of course, but there were already few archers in the kingdom, outside of the Ranger Corps, who could have matched him.**

King Duncan was a little stung on a professional level that his royal scouts didn't make the cut. On the other hand, he was also very proud of his Rangers.

**Even the archers in the King's army weren't trained to shoot with such individual speed and accuracy. They were trained to fire as a group, sending a mass of arrows against an attacking force.**

...which, King Duncan supposed, was why they weren't Rangers.

**As a result, their training concentrated more on coordinated actions, so that all arrows were fired simultaneously.**

**He had just set the bow down, preparatory to recovering his arrows, when the sound of a footstep behind him made him turn. He was a little surprised to see three Battleschool apprentices watching him, their red surcoats marking them as second-year trainees.**

Rodney's teeth were immediately on edge again. Horace's stony face had returned - although on Will's behalf rather than his own, this time.

**He didn't recognize any of them, but he nodded a friendly greeting.**

**"Good morning," he said. "What brings you down here?"**

**It was unusual to find Battleschool apprentices this far from the castle. He noted the thick canes that they all carried and decided they must have set out for a walk.**

Cassandra snorted. Will looked sheepish.

**The closest of them, a handsome, blond-haired boy smiled and said:**

**"We're looking for the Ranger's apprentice."**

"That was your first mistake of the chapter," Halt muttered.

**Will couldn't help smiling in return.**

The entire table (save Baron Arald, who knew what the next line was) raised an eyebrow at Will, who flushed red with embarrassment.

**After all, the Ranger cloak that he wore marked him unmistakably as an apprentice Ranger. But perhaps the Battleschool apprentice was only being polite.**

**"Well, you've found him," he said. "What can I do for you?"**

**"We've brought a message from the Battleschool for you," the boy replied.**

Rodney muttered something under his breath. Baron Arald aimed a kick at his friend under the table.

**Like all Battleschool trainees, he was tall and well muscled, as were his companions. They moved closer to him now and Will instinctively backed off a pace. They were a little too close, he felt. Closer than they need to be to pass on a message.**

"Good, Will," Halt said quietly. Will grinned.

**"It's about what happened at the boar hunt," said one of the others. This one was red-haired, with a heavy dusting of freckles, and a nose that showed distinct signs of having been broken - probably in one of the training combats that Battleschool students were always practicing. Will shrugged uncomfortably. There was something in the air he didn't like.**

"Most likely their stench," Alyss decided. Horace snorted with laughter, and Will sniggered. Cassandra tried - and failed - not to laugh.

**The blond boy was smiling still. But neither the redhead nor their third companion, an olive-skinned boy who was the tallest of the three, looked as if they thought there was anything to smile about.**

"First thing they've gotten right in their lives, I expect," Gilan said with forced cheer.

**"You know," Will said, "people are talking a lot of nonsense about that. I didn't do much."**

**"We know," the red-haired boy snapped angrily and again, Will took a pace back again as they all moved a little closer.**

**Halt's training was ringing alarm bells in his mind now. _Never let people get too close to you,_ he'd been told. _If they try to, be on your guard, no matter who they are or how friendly you think they are._**

**"But when you go swanking around telling everyone you saved a big, clumsy Battleschool apprentice -**

"Hey!"

"Really? Of everything, _that_ is what you're complaining about?"

**\- you make us look foolish," the tall boy accused.**

"You do that without my help," Will muttered.

**Will looked at him, frowning. "I never said that!" he protested. "I….."**

**And at that moment, while he was distracted by Bryn, Alda made his move, stepping quickly forward with the sack held open to through it over Will's head. It was the same tactic they had used so successfully with Horace, but Will was already on his guard and, as the other boy moved, he sensed the attack and reacted.**

**Unexpectedly, he dived forward toward Alda, rolling in a somersault that took him under the sack, then letting his legs sweep around, scything Alda's legs from under him so that the bigger boy was sent sprawling. But there were three of them and that was too many for him to keep track of. He'd evaded Alda and Bryn but as he rolled to his feet, completing the movement, Jerome brought his cane around in a ringing crack across the back of his shoulders.**

Alyss winced in sympathy. Gilan hissed in a breath through his teeth, and both Horace and Halt had _very_ dangerous looks on their faces.

**With a cry of pain and shock, Will staggered forward, as Bryn now brought his cane around and hit him across the side.**

The look on Halt's face could have stopped a Kalkara dead in its tracks. In fact, it rivaled Cassandra's.

**By then, Alda had regained his feet, furious with the way Will had evaded him, and he struck Will across the point of the shoulder.**

Halt was gritting his teeth, although you wouldn't know it to look at him (unless you were Lady Pauline or Crowley). Horace was much more vocal about his anger.

**The pain was excruciating and, with a sob of agony, Will dropped to his knees.**

Alyss's grip on Will's hand tightened, and her mouth was pressed into a thin line. Will thought that Alda, Bryn, and Jerome should think themselves very lucky they weren't present (even discounting Cassandra's earlier rage - and even discounting last chapter). Though if they had, he certainly would not have felt sorry for them.

**Instantly, the three Battleschool apprentices crowded forward, ringing him, trapping him between them, the heavy canes raised to continue the beating.**

**"That's enough!"**

Alyss let out a sigh of relief.

**The unexpected voice stopped them. Will, crouched on the ground waiting for the beating to begin, arms over his head, looked up and saw Horace, bruised and battered, standing a few meters away. He held one of the wooden Battleschool drill swords in his right hand.**

A wicked gleam entered Cassandra's eyes as she began to put the pieces together.

**One eye was blackened and there was a trickle of blood running from his lip. But in his eyes there was a look of hatred and sheer determination that, for a moment, made the three older boys hesitate.**

**Then they realized that there were three of them and Horace's sword was, after all, no more of a weapon than the canes they carried.**

"The weapon doesn't matter -" Rodney started angrily, but Horace finished the saying for him.

"- the wielder does," he added with a grin. Rodney nodded in acknowledgement at his former pupil.

**Forgetting Will for the moment, they fanned out and moved to encircle Horace, the heavy canes raised to strike.**

**"Baby followed us," said Alda.**

**"Baby wants another beating," Jerome agreed.**

**"And Baby's going to get it," said Bryn, smiling confidently.**

"Not bloody likely."

Gilan stared in shock at Jenny, who looked right back with one eyebrow raised and a half-smiled on her face. Will, Alyss and Horace hid their grins.

**But then a yell of fright was torn from his lips as a sudden, jarring force slammed against the cane, whipping it from his grasp and sending it spinning to land several meters away.**

**A similar yell to his right told him that the same thing had happened to Jerome.**

Horace and Will both had savage grins on their faces.

**Confused, Bryn looked around to where the two canes lay. With a sinking feeling, he saw that each one was transfixed by a black-shafted arrow.**

Sir Rodney chuckled. Baron Arald was smirking, and King Duncan had a gleam in his eye.

**"I think one at a time is fairer, don't you?" said Halt.**

**Bryn and Jerome felt a surge of terror as they looked up to see the grim-faced Ranger standing in the shadows ten meters away, another arrow already nocked to the string of his massive longbow.**

**Only Alda showed any sign of rebellion. "This is Battleschool business, Ranger," he said, trying to bluster his way through the situation. "You'd best stay out of it."**

"Really now?" Halt said softly (ignoring Crowley's howls of laughter, which was killing the mood). "I seem to recall my apprentice being involved."

 _"You'd best stay out of it,"_ Crowley sniggered. "These three really were clueless, weren't they? Oh, this is _fantastic_ -"

"If you're quite finished, Crowley," Baron Arald said dryly. Crowley made a visible effort to contain himself, and waved for Baron Arald to continue, still giggling to himself.

**Will, slowly regaining his feet, saw the dark anger that burned deep in Halt's eyes at the arrogant words. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for Alda,**

_"Will Treaty!"_

"Sorry!"

**then he felt the throbbing pain in his back and shoulders and any thoughts of sympathy were instantly blotted out.**

**"Battleschool business, is it, sonny?" Halt said in a dangerously low voice.**

Halt was stoic-faced as ever. Crowley, however, was grinning like a maniac and expressing more than enough emotion for both of them.

**He moved forward, covering the ground between him and Alda in a few deceptively swift, gliding steps. Before Alda knew it, Halt was barely a meter away. Still, the apprentice remained defiant. The dark look on Halt's face was unsettling, but seen close-up, Alda realized that he was a good head taller than the Ranger and his confidence flowed back. All these years he had been nervous of the mysterious man who now stood before him. He had never realized what a puny figure he really was.**

Halt's eyebrow twitched. Crowley nearly fell out of his seat laughing. The two diplomats and the king in the room were all struggling to keep straight faces, but everyone else didn't bother.

**Which was Alda's second mistake of the day. Halt was small.**

Halt muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. Pauline nudged him.

**But puny was not a word that entered into it. In addition, Halt had spent a lifetime fighting far more dangerous adversaries than a second-year Battleschool apprentice.**

**"I seem to notice that there was a Ranger apprentice being attacked," Halt was saying softly. "I think that makes it Ranger's business as well, don't you?"**

**Alda shrugged, confident now that, whatever the Ranger might do, he could more than handle it.**

Crowley's laughter redoubled. "More fool you," he said happily, shaking with mirth. "More fool you - Rodney, I thought your recruiting standards were higher than this?"

Rodney's eyes were narrowed. "I thought they were too," he said conversationally.

**"Make it your business if you like," he said, a sneer entering his voice. "I really don't care one way or the other."**

**Halt nodded several times as he digested that speech. Then he replied. "Well then, I think I will make it my business- but I won't be needing this."**

**As he said it, he replaced the arrow in his quiver and lightly tossed the bow to one side, turning away as he did so. Inadvertently, Alda's eyes followed the action and instantly he felt a searing pain as Halt stamped backward with the edge of his boot, catching the apprentice's foot between arch and ankle and driving into it.**

The entire table cheered.

**As Alda doubled over to clasp his injured foot, the Ranger pivoted on his left heel and his right elbow slammed upward into Alda's nose, jerking him upright again and send him staggering back, eyes streaming with the pain.**

The cheers redoubled. Halt looked vaguely smug.

**For a second or two, Alda's sight was blurred by the reflex tears and he felt a slight pricking sensation under his chin. As his eyes cleared, he found the Ranger's eyes were only are few centimeters from his own. There was no anger there. Instead, there was a look of utter contempt and disregard that was somehow far more frightening.**

King Duncan, who was trying to maintain a shred of authority over the people in the room, was struggling to bite back a grin. The Rangers tended to be very loyal to each other, he'd found.

**The pricking sensation became a little more pronounced and, as he tried to look down, Alda gave a gasp of fear. Halt's larger knife, razor edged and needle pointed, was just under his chin, pressing lightly into the soft flesh of his throat.**

Jenny was biting her lip. Halt noticed and looked at Sir Rodney. "Don't worry," he said, with fake cheer. "I made sure there was enough left over for you to shout at."

Rodney grinned.

**"Don't ever talk to me like that again, boy," the Ranger said, so softly that Alda had to strain to hear the words. "And don't ever lay a hand on my apprentice again. Understand?"**

Will flushed happily at those words and grinned at table.

**Alda, all his arrogance gone, his heart pounding in terror, could say nothing. The knife pricked a little harder against his throat and he felt a warm trickle of blood sliding down under his collar. Halt's eyes blazed suddenly, like the coals of a fire in a sudden draft.**

**"Understand?" he repeated, and Alda croaked a reply.**

**"Yes…sir."**

"Interesting, what the point of a knife can do for a man's cooperativeness," Gilan observed. Baron Arald nodded in agreement.

"All that bluster seems to leave them," he added. "Of course, there's always exceptions."

"The key is making sure the exceptions are on your side," Rodney contributed.

**Halt stepped back, re-sheathing the knife in one fluid movement. Alda sank to the ground, massaging his injured ankle. He was sure there was damage to the tendons.**

"Good," Cassandra and Alyss said in unison.

**Ignoring him, Halt turned to face the other two second-year apprentices. Instinctively, they had moved closer together and were watching him fearfully, uncertain as to what he was going to do next. Halt pointed to Bryn.**

**"You," he said, his words edged with contempt, "pick up your cane."**

Cassandra frowned. "Pick _up_ the cane?" she repeated. Horace laid a hand on his wife's arm.

"Just wait," he murmured. "You'll appreciate it."

**Fearfully, Bryn moved to where his cane lay on the ground, Halt's arrow still embedded halfway along its length. Without taking his eyes off the Ranger, fearing some trick, he stooped at the knees, his hand scrabbling awkwardly until it touched the cane. Then he stood again, holding it uncertainly in his left hand.**

**"Now give me back my arrow," the Ranger ordered, and the tall, swarthy boy struggled to remove the arrow, stepping close enough to hand it to Halt, tensed in every muscle as he waited for some unexpected move from the Ranger. Halt, however, merely took the arrow and replaced it in his quiver. Bryn steeped hurriedly back out of reach.**

"Not so much of a hero now, are we?" King Duncan said lightly, fingers steepled together under his chin.

Baron Arald snorted.

**Halt gave a small, contemptuous laugh. Then he turned to Horace.**

**"I take it these are the three who gave you those bruises?" he asked. Horace said nothing for a moment, then realized that his continued silence was ridiculous.**

_"Thank_ you," Cassandra muttered.

**There was no reason why he should shield the three bullies any further. There had never had been a reason.**

**"Yes, sir" he said decisively. Halt nodded, rubbing his chin.**

**"I rather thought so," he said.**

**"Well then, I've heard rumors that you're pretty good with a sword."**

"To put it mildly," Rodney said dryly, glancing over at the young man in question.

**"How about a practice bout with this hero in front of me?"**

Cassandra stared at the book in Baron Arald's hands for a full ten seconds, unblinking. Then she burst out laughing.

"Oh, that is _perfect,"_ she gasped.

**A slow grin spread over Horace's face as he understood what the Ranger was suggesting. He started forward. "I think I'd like that."**

**Bryn backed away a pace. "Just a moment!" he cried. "You can't expect me to…"**

"Yes, he can," Crowley said cheerfully.

**He got no further. The Ranger's eyes glittered with that dangerous light once more and he took a half step forward, his hand dropping to the hilt of the saxe knife again.**

**"You've got a cane. I suggest you use it. Now get on with it," he ordered, his voice very low and dangerous.**

**Realizing he was trapped, Bryn turned to face Horace. Now that it was a matter of one-on-one, he felt far less confident about dealing with the younger boy. Everyone had heard of Horace's almost uncanny natural swordsmanship.**

Alyss was wearing an unnerving smile on her face.

**Deciding that attack might be the best defense, Bryn stepped forward and aimed an overhead slash at Horace. Horace parried it easily. He parried Bryn's next two strokes with equal ease.**

Jenny applauded.

**Then, as he blocked Bryn's fourth stroke, he flicked his wooden blade down the length of the other boy's cane in the instant before the two weapons disengaged.**

Rodney grimaced. That would hurt, even with a wooden sword. With a sharpened blade, Bryn would have lost fingers.

**There was no crosspiece to protect Bryn's hand from the movement and the hardwood drill sword slammed painfully into his fingers. With a cry of agony, he dropped the heavy stick, leaping back and wringing his injured hand painfully under his arm. Horace stood, ready to resume.**

"Did I say stop?"

**"I didn't hear anybody call stop," Halt said mildly.**

**"But…he's disarmed me!" Bryn whined.**

**Halt smiled at him. "So he has. But I'm sure he'll let you pick up your cane and start again. Go ahead."**

**Bryn looked from Halt to Horace and back again. He saw no pity in either face.**

"I should think not," King Duncan muttered.

**"I don't want to," he said in a very small voice.**

"Your protest has been noted," Alyss began.

"And ignored," Cassandra finished. Will and Horace groaned as the two women shared grins.

**Horace found it hard to reconcile this cringing figure with the sneering bully who had been making his life hell for the past few months. Halt appeared to consider Bryn's statement.**

**"We'll note your protest," he said cheerfully. "Now continue, please".**

**Bryn's hand throbbed painfully. But even worse than the pain was the fear of what was to come, the certainty that Horace would punish him without mercy. He bent down and reached fearfully for the cane, his eyes fixed on Horace. The younger boy waited patiently until Bryn was ready, then made a sudden feint forward.**

**Bryn yelped in fear and threw the cane aside.**

Rodney sighed and cradled his head in his hands.

**Horace shook his head in disgust.**

**"Who's the baby now?" he asked. Bryn wouldn't meet his gaze. He shrank away, his eyes cast down.**

Rodney resisted the urge to bang his head against the table.

**"If he's going to be a baby," Halt suggested, "I suppose you'll just have to paddle him."**

And Crowley had _just_ managed to recover a straight face, too...

Halt was glaring at him again.

**A grin spread over Horace's face. He sprang forward and grabbed Bryn by the scruff of his neck, spinning him around. Then he proceeded to whack the older boy's backside with the flat of the drill sword, over and over again, following him around the clearing as Bryn tried to pull away from the remorseless punishment.**

Will was muffling his laughter with his sleeve.

**Bryn howled and hopped and sobbed but Horace's grip was firm on his collar and there was no escape. Finally, when Horace felt he had repaid all the bullying, the insults, and the pain that he had suffered, he let go.**

"It took a while," Horace recalled dryly. Cassandra smiled and linked her arm through her husband's.

**Bryn staggered away and dropped to his hands and knees, sobbing with pain and fear.**

**Jerome had watched the proceedings in horror, knowing his turn was coming. He began to edge away, hoping to escape while the Ranger's attention was distracted.**

"As if," Gilan muttered.

**"Take one more step and I'll put an arrow through you."**

**Will tried to model his voice on the quiet, threatening tone Halt had used. He had retrieved several of his arrows from the nearest target and now he had one of them ready, laid on the bowstring. Halt glanced around approvingly.**

**"Good idea," he said. "Aim for the left calf. It's a very painful wound."**

Most of the people at the table rubbed their left calves at this.

**He glanced over to where Bryn lay, sobbing, on the ground at Horace's feet. "I think he's had enough," he said. Then he jerked a thumb at Jerome.**

**"Your turn," he said briefly. Horace retrieved the cane that Bryn had dropped and moved toward Jerome, holding it out to him. Jerome backed away.**

**"No!" Jerome yelled, wide-eyed. "It's not fair! He…"**

"Of course it isn't _fair,"_ Rodney snapped. "It's punishment, it's not supposed to be _fair."_

**"Well, of course it's not fair," Halt agreed in a reasonable tone. "I gather you think three against one is fair. Now get on with it."**

**Will had often heard the saying that a cornered rat will eventually show fight. Jerome proved it now. He went onto the attack and to his own surprise, Horace gave ground before the rain of blows aimed at him.**

The swordsmen at the table were grinning to themselves. Knowing how skilled Horace was, they could tell what was happening.

**The bully's confidence began to grow as he advanced. He failed to notice that Horace was blocking every stroke with consummate ease, almost with contempt. Jerome's best strokes never even looked like they were breaking through Horace's defense. The second-year apprentice might as well have been hitting a stone wall.**

"Stone walls don't get angry," Horace pointed out.

**Then, Horace stopped retreating.**

Gilan leaned forward despite himself, eager to see Jerome brought to justice.

**He stood fast, blocking Jerome's latest stroke with an iron wrist. They stood chest to chest for a few seconds, and then Horace began to push Jerome back. His left hand gripped Jerome's right wrist, keeping their weapons locked together. Jerome's feet skidded on the snow as Horace forced him backward, farther and farther. Then he gave a final heave and sent Jerome sprawling on the ground.**

Cheers erupted from around the table, brought back to earth by a grinning Baron Arald

"It's not over yet," he reminded them all. "There's more to come."

**Jerome had seen what happened to Bryn. He knew that surrender wasn't an option.**

Will smirked.

**He scrambled to his feet and defended himself desperately as Horace began his own attack. Jerome was driven back by a whirlwind of forehands, backhands, side and overhead cuts.**

Sir Rodney's eyes gleamed with approval.

**He managed to block some of the strokes, but the blistering speed of Horace's attack defeated him. Blows rained on his shins, elbows and shoulders almost at will. Horace seemed to concentrate on the bony spots that would hurt most. Occasionally, he used the rounded point of the sword to thrust into Jerome's ribs - just hard enough to bruise, without breaking bones.**

"More's the pity," Cassandra muttered darkly.

**Finally, Jerome had had enough. He wheeled away from the onslaught, dropped the cane and fell to the ground, hands clasped protectively over his head. His backside raised invitingly in the air and Horace paused and looked a question at Halt. The Ranger made a little gesture toward Jerome.**

**"Why not?" he said. "An opportunity like that doesn't come every day."**

There was laughter all around the table as they realized what was about to happen.

**But even he winced at the thundering kick in the backside that Horace delivered. Jerome, nose down in the wet snow, skidded at least a meter from the force of it.**

Several of the people present winced.

**Halt retrieved the cane that Jerome had dropped. He studied it for a moment, testing its weight and balance.**

**"Really not much of a weapon," he said. "You have to wonder why they chose it." Then he tossed the cane to Alda. "Get busy," he ordered.**

**The blond boy, still crouched, nursing his injured ankle, looked at the cane in disbelief. Blood streamed down his face from his shattered nose. He'd never be quite so good looking again, Will thought.**

Cassandra snorted.

**"But…but…I'm injured!" he protested, hobbling awkwardly to his feet.**

"Too bad," Halt muttered.

**He couldn't believe that Halt would require him to go through the punishment he'd just witnessed.**

"Believe it," Crowley cackled.

**Halt paused, studying him as if that fact hadn't occurred to him. For a moment, a ray of hope shone in Alda's mind.**

**"So you are," the Ranger said. So you are." He looked a little disappointed, and Alda began to believe that Halt's sense of fair** **play** \- Crowley snorted - **would spare him the sort of punishment that had been handed out to his friends. Then the Ranger's face cleared.**

**"But just a minute," he said, "so is Horace. Isn't that right, Will?"**

**Will grinned. "Definitely, Halt," he said, and Alda's brief hope vanished without a trace.**

**Halt now turned to Horace, asking with mock concern, "Are you sure you're not too badly injured to continue, Horace?"**

Cassandra was trying to hold back a fit of giggles. Horace's cool smile was back.

**Horace smiled. It was a smile that never reached his eyes. "Oh, I think I can manage," he said.**

**"Well, that's settled then!" Halt said cheerfully. "Let's continue, shall we?"**

**And Alda knew there was to be no escape for him either. He faced up to Horace and the final duel began.**

**Alda was the best swordsman of the three bullies,**

"- not saying much, the -"

Baron Arald kicked his Battlemaster under the table again.

**and at least he gave Horace some competition for a few minutes. But as they felt each other out with stroke and counterstroke, thrust and parry, he quickly realized that Horace was his master. His only chance, he felt, was to try something unexpected.**

**He disengaged, then changed his grip on the cane, holding it in both hands like a quarterstaff and launching a series of rapid left and right hooking blows with it.**

**For a second, Horace was caught by surprise and he fell back. But he recovered with catlike speed and aimed an overhead blow at Alda. The second-year student attempted the standard quarterstaff parry, holding the staff at either end, to block the sword stroke with the middle section. In theory, it was the right tactic.**

"And in theory, there is no difference between theory and practice," Rodney muttered.

**In practice, the hardened hickory drill sword simply sheared through the cane, leaving Alda holding two useless shortened sticks. Totally unnerved, he let them drop and stood defenseless before Horace.**

**Horace looked at his long-time tormentor, then at the sword in his hand.**

**"I don't need this," he muttered, and let the sword drop.**

**The right-handed punch that he threw traveled no more than twenty centimeters to the point of Alda's jaw. But it had his shoulder and body weight and months of suffering and loneliness behind it- the loneliness only a victim of bullying can know.**

**Will's eyes widened slightly as Alda came off his feet and hurtled backward, to come crashing down in the cold snow beside his two friends.**

Gilan winced.

Rodney let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Out cold with one punch. Impressive."

**He thought about the times in the past when he had fought with Horace. If he'd known the other boy was capable of throwing a bunch like that, he never would have done so.**

**Alda didn't move.**

"I shouldn't think so, after a punch like that," Rodney muttered.

**Odds were, he wouldn't move for some time, Will thought. Horace steeped back, shaking his bruised knuckles and heaving a sigh of satisfaction.**

**"You have no idea how good that felt," he said. "Thank you, Ranger."**

**Halt nodded acknowledgment. "Thank you for taking a hand when they attacked Will. And by the way, my friends call me Halt."**

Horace grinned. _My friends call me Halt._

"So whatever _did_ happen to them?" Cassandra asked Sir Rodney. The Battlemaster shrugged.

"By now? Who knows? I kicked them out of Redmont Fief. Beyond that, they're not my responsibility anymore - and thank Ergon for that."


	24. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reads Chapter Twenty-three of Ruins of Gorlan. Warm Ranger fuzzies ensue.

Crowley cleared his throat and began to read.

**In the weeks following his final encounter with the three bullies, Horace noticed a definite change in life at the Battleschool.**

"Good," Rodney said, sounding relieved.

 **The most important factor in the change was that Alda, Bryn and Jerome were all expelled from the school** \- there were cheers all around - **and from the castle and its neighboring village. Sir Rodney had been suspicious for some time that there had been a problem among the ranks of his junior students.**

Baron Arald gave his friend a _see-it's-fine_ look. Rodney pretended to ignore it.

**A quick visit from Halt alerted him as to where it lay and the resultant investigation soon brought to light the full story of the way Horace had been victimized. Sir Rodney's judgment was swift and uncompromising. The three second-year students were given a half day to prepare and pack. They were supplied with a small amount of money and a week's supplies and were transferred to the fief's boundaries, where they were told, in no uncertain terms, not to return.**

"Quite generous of you," Cassandra said with false cheer.

"Oh, if I'd had my way, it would have been worse," Rodney said with a grin that would not have looked out of place on a shark. "But Karel 'persuaded' me otherwise." His voice twisted bitterly on _persuaded_ , leaving nobody in any doubt that the punishment conferred on the three bullies had been almost entirely Karel's plan. In fact, it had, and the senior knight had stepped in and backed Rodney into a corner where the Battlemaster was forced to accept it against a less-pleasant alternative. Karel was well-known for being an excellent unarmed combatant.

On the other hand, the three bullies made it away without any (more) injuries. Rodney _did not like bullies._

**Once they were gone, Horace's lot improved considerably. The daily routine of the Battleschool was still as harsh and challenging as ever. But without the added burden that Alda, Bryn and Jerome had laid upon him, Horace found he could easily cope with the drills, the discipline and the studies. He rapidly began to achieve the potential that Sir Rodney had seen in him.**

Horace looked faintly surprised, but Sir Rodney just smiled proudly.

**In addition, his roommates, without the fear of incurring the bullies' vengeance, began to be more welcoming and friendly.**

**In short, Horace felt that things were definitely looking up.**

"That's good," Halt said quietly.

**His only regret was that he hadn't been able to thank Halt properly for the improvement in his life. After the events in the meadow, Horace had been placed in the infirmary for several days while his bruises and contusions were attended to. By the time he was released, he found that Halt and Will had already left for the Rangers' Gathering.**

**"Are we nearly there?" Will asked, for perhaps the tenth time that morning.**

Halt groaned. "More like hundredth time," he muttered.

Will smiled sheepishly.

**Halt gave vent to a small sigh of exasperation. Other than that, he made no reply. They had been on the road now for three days and it seemed to Will that they must be close to the Gathering Ground. Several times in the past hour, he had noticed an unfamiliar scent on the air. He had mentioned it to Halt, who said briefly, "It's salt. We're getting close to the sea," then refused to elaborate any further.**

Crowley and Halt exchanged a quick glance, half-relieved that the exact location of the Ranger Gathering Groups was a secret so far, and half-worried that it wouldn't stay that way.

**Will glanced sidelong at his teacher, hoping that perhaps Halt might deign to share a little more information with him, but the Ranger's keen eyes were scanning the ground in front of them. From time to time, Will noticed, he looked up into the trees that flanked the road.**

Gilan mumbled something under his breath. Jenny sent a questioning glance at her - well, nobody was quite certain _what_ they were, but they were something.

**"Are you looking for something?" Will asked, and Halt turned in his saddle.**

**"Finally, a useful question," he said. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. The Chief Ranger will have sentries out around the Gathering Ground. I always like to try to fool them as I'm approaching."**

"Of course you do," Crowley grumbled. Halt merely shrugged.

**"Why?" asked Will, and Halt allowed himself a tight little grin.**

**"It keeps them on their toes," he explained. "They'll try and to slip behind us and follow us in, just so they can say they've ambushed me. It's a silly game they like to play."**

"Silly?!" Gilan yelped indignantly. Halt nodded.

"Silly," he repeated. "Because you've never succeeded."

**"Why is it silly?" asked Will. It sounded exactly like the sort of skill exercise that he and Halt practiced regularly. The grizzled Ranger turned in his saddle and fixed Will with an unblinking stare.**

**"Because they never succeed," he said. "And this year they'll be trying even harder because they know I'm bringing an apprentice. They'll want to see how good you are."**

Gilan somehow managed half a grin and half a groan as he recalled 'how good' Will had been when they'd first met.

**"Is this part of the testing?" Will asked, and Halt nodded.**

**"It's the start of it. Do you remember what I told you last night?"**

**Will nodded. For the past two nights, around the campfire, Halt's soft voice had given Will advice and instructions on how to conduct himself at the Gathering. Last night, they'd devised tactics for use in case of an ambush - just the sort of thing that Halt had mentioned now.**

"You - of course you did," Crowley said. "I'm not even surprised."

Halt just shrugged. "I have been doing this for a while," he pointed out mildly.

Crowley grinned. "Just means you're old."

Halt glared at him.

**"When will we…," he began, but suddenly Halt was alert. He held up a warning finger for silence and Will stopped speaking instantly. The Ranger's head was turned slightly to listen. The two horses continued without hesitation.**

**"Hear it?" Halt asked.**

**Will craned his head too. He thought that, just maybe, he could hear soft hoofbeats behind them. But he wasn't sure. The gait of their own horses masked any real sound from the trail masked any real noise from the trail behind. If there was someone there, his horse was moving in step with their own.**

"Clever trick," King Duncan praised. Gilan flushed a little at the words.

(Everyone present knew exactly who it was trying to sneak up on Halt, of course).

**"Change gait," Halt whispered. "On three. One, two, three."**

**Simultaneously, they both nudged their left toes into the horses' shoulders. It was one of the many signals to which Tug and Abelard were trained to respond.**

**Instantly, both horses hesitated in their stride. They seemed to skip a pace, then continued in their even gait.**

Sir Rodney raised his eyebrows, silently impressed.

Crowley grinned happily.

**But the hesitation had changed the pattern of their hoofbeats, and for an instant, Will could hear another set of horse's hooves behind them, like a slightly delayed echo. Then the other horse changed gait as well to match their own and the sound was gone.**

Gilan muttered a curse. It was a fairly mild one, but it didn't stop Jenny from elbowing him gently in the ribs.

**"Ranger horse," Halt said softly. "It'll be Gilan, for sure."**

The Ranger in question groaned.

**"How can you tell?" Will asked.**

**"Only a Ranger horse could change his pace as quickly as that. And it will be Gilan because it's always Gilan. He loves trying to catch me out."**

Halt raised

**"Why?" asked Will, and Halt looked sternly at him.**

**"Because he was my last apprentice," he explained. "And for some reason, former apprentices just love to catch their former masters with their breeches down."**

Will and Gilan immediately assumed innocent, angelic looks.

Halt glared at them both.

**He looked accusingly at his current apprentice. Will was about to protest that he would never behave in such a fashion after he graduated, then realized that he probably would, and at the first opportunity.**

Halt's glare intensified. Will, unfazed, merely shrugged and grinned at his old master.

**The protest died unspoken.**

**Halt signaled for silence, and scanned the trail ahead of them. Then he pointed. "That's the spot there," he said. "Ready?"**

Horace was wearing half a grin as Crowley read with glee thick in his voice.

**There was a large tree close to the side of the trail, with branches hanging out just above head height. Will studied it for a moment, then nodded. Tug and Abelard continued their even pacing toward the tree. As they came closer, Will kicked his feet from the stirrups and rose to stand, crouching, on Tug's back. The horse didn't vary his pace as his master shifted position.**

Rodney's eyebrows indicated that he was impressed. That, or they were trying to escape off the top of his head.

**As they passed under the branches, Will reached up and seized the lowest one, swinging himself up on to it. The instant his weight left Tug's back the little horse began to pace more vigorously, forcing his hooves into the ground with each step so that there would be no sign to a tracker behind them that his load had suddenly lightened.**

Rodney's eyebrows were _definitely_ trying to escape.

**Silently, Will climbed higher into the tree until he found a spot where he had a solid perch and a clear view. He could see Halt and the two horses moving slowly down the trail.**

**As they reached the next bend, Halt urged Tug to keep going, then halted Abelard and swung down from the saddle. He dropped to his knees, seeming to study the ground for signs of tracks.**

"And I thought I'd finally got you," Gilan mourned.

**Now Will could hear the other horse behind them. He looked back the way they had come, but another bend hid their follower from sight.**

**Then, the soft hoofbeats ceased.**

**Will's mouth was dry and his heart beat faster and faster inside his ribcage. He was sure the sound must be audible to anyone within fifty meters or so. But his training asserted itself, and he stood motionless on the tree branch, among the leaves and dappled shadows, watching the trail behind them.**

**A movement!**

**He saw it from the corner of his eye, then it was gone. He peered closely at the spot for a second or two, then remembered Halt's lessons.**

_**Don't focus your attention on one spot. Keep a wide focus all the time and keep scanning. You'll see him as a movement, not as a figure. Remember, he's a Ranger too and he's been trained in the art of not being seen.** _

"One of the best at it, in fact," Halt said, nodding at his old apprentice. Gilan looked startled for a moment, then his face split into a wide grin at the rare praise from Halt.

**Will widened his focus and scanned the forest behind them. Within seconds, he was rewarded by another sign of movement. A branch swung back into place as an unseen figure passed silently by.**

"Not nearly good enough, it seems," Gilan said dryly. Jenny swatted him lightly, and informed him that he was not allowed to degrade himself.

Halt smiled to himself. If there was one thing he was proud of, it was his apprentices.

**Then, ten meters farther on, a bush swayed slightly. Then he saw a clump of tall grass springing slowly back into position from where a passing foot had crushed it momentarily.**

Crowley's eyebrows raised fractionally, impressed. For a first year apprentice, that was fairly impressive.

Then again, he reflected, glancing sideways at his old friend sitting like a short, bearded thundercloud next to his wife, perhaps it wasn't so surprising.

**Will stayed stock-still. He marveled at the fact that their pursuer could move through the forest without his seeing him. Obviously, the other Ranger had left his horse behind and was stalking Halt on foot. Will's eyes swiveled for a quick glance at Halt. His teacher still seemed to be preoccupied with some sign on the ground.**

"'Preoccupied'," Jenny echoed in disbelief. "No. _Sure_ ly the great Ranger Halt couldn't be _preoccupied."_

Gilan suppressed a grin (even though she was perfectly right and he'd been taken by surprise).

**Another movement came from the forest. The unseen Ranger had passed Will's hiding place now and was moving back toward the trail, intent on surprising Halt from behind.**

**Suddenly, a tall figure in a gray-green cloak seemed to rise out of the ground in the middle of the trail,**

Crowley grinned. _The middle of the trail? Very impressive._

**some twenty meters behind the kneeling figure of Halt.**

**Will blinked. One moment the figure hadn't been there. Next, he seemed to materialize out of thin air. Will's hand begin to move toward the quiver of arrows slung over his back, then he halted the movement** ****of his hand toward the quiver**. Halt had told him the night before:**

_**Wait until we're talking. If he's not talking, he'll hear the slightest movement you make.** _

"So you _do_ listen," Halt said dryly. Will looked injured.

"Of course I listen!" he said indignantly.

**But it seemed that he'd stopped in time. Below him, he hear a cheerful voice all out.**

**"Halt, Halt!"**

Halt rolled his eyes as Crowley snorted.

"Why do you persist in making that terrible joke?" he asked his former apprentice wearily.

**Halt turned and rose slowly to his feet, brushing the dirt from his knees as he rose. He put his head on one side and studied the figure in the middle of the trail, who was leaning easily on a longbow identical to Halt's own.**

**"Well, Gilan," he called, "I see you're still making that old joke."**

"Almost as old as you," Crowley jabbed cheerfully. Halt turned a baleful eye on him.

**The tall Ranger shrugged and replied cheerfully, "The joke appears to be on you this year, Halt."**

**As Gilan spoke, Will's hand moved quickly but quietly to his quiver and selected an arrow, laying it ready on the bowstring. Halt was speaking again now.**

**"Really, Gilan? And what joke would that be, I wonder?"**

**The amusement was evident in Gilan's voice as he replied to his old master.**

**"Come now, Halt. Admit it. For once I've got the best of you - and you know how many years I have been trying."**

"Far too many for you to still be persisting," Halt muttered. Gilan just grinned unashamedly.

**Halt rubbed one hand over his grizzled beard thoughtfully.**

**"It beats me why you keep on trying, as a matter of fact."**

**Gilan laughed. "You should know how much pleasure it gives an ex-apprentice to get the better of his master, Halt. Now come on. Admit it. This year, I've won."**

Halt was as close to smirking as he would ever come among a group that contained non-Rangers (exempting Lady Pauline, of course).

**As the tall figure spoke, Will carefully drew back the arrow, sighting on a tree trunk some two meters to Gilan's left. Halt's instructions echoed in his ears: _Choose a target close enough to startle him when you shoot. But for pity's sake not too close. If he moves, I don't want you to putting an arrow through him!_**

"You _do_ care," Gilan said in sing-song, grinning from ear to ear.

It was a joke, of course. Halt's protectiveness over his former apprentices - both of them - was legendary. He'd gotten himself exiled over it, after all (and accidentally saved the western world as a result, but that wasn't as important).

**Halt hadn't moved from his position in the center if the trail. Gilan was now shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to another. Halt's unperturbed manner was beginning to bother him. It appeared that, all of a sudden, he wasn't totally sure that Halt was merely trying to bluff his way out of the trap.**

**Halt's next words add to his suspicions.**

**"Ah, yes…apprentices and masters. They're a strange combination, all right. But tell me Gilan, my old _apprentice_ , aren't you forgetting something this year?"**

"Or some _one_ , in this case," Alyss teased. Jenny giggled. Lady Pauline smiled, and Cassandra grinned.

Halt snorted, and Crowley snickered.

**Perhaps it was the way Halt laid a little extra stress on the word "apprentice," but suddenly Gilan became aware that he had made a mistake. His head began to turn, searching for the apprentice that he'd forgotten.**

**As he began the movement, Will released his arrow.**

"You do have a flair for the dramatic," Cassandra observed dryly.

Horace snorted. "He always has."

"Halt, of course, didn't help matters," King Duncan observed, just as dryly at his daughter, shooting a grin in the direction of the grim-faced Ranger, who nodded in acknowledgement of the good-natured jab.

**The shaft hissed through the air past the tall Ranger and thudded, quivering, into the tree that Will had selected. Gilan jerked back with shock, then his eyes swung into the branches of the tree where Will stood concealed. Will marveled that, even caught by surprise as he was, Gilan was still able to react so quickly in identifying the direction from which his attacker had shot.**

Halt suppressed a smile at that. He always felt a tiny bit relieved whenever Will and Gilan showed their friendship. It was ridiculous, but he'd always been a little afraid they might resent each other for some reason.

**Gilan shook his head ruefully. His keen eyes could make out the small gray and green clad figure concealed in the shadows of the tree's foliage.**

**"Come down, Will," Halt called. "And meet Gilan, one of our more careless Rangers." He shook his head at Gilan. "I told you when you were a boy, didn't I? Never be too hasty. Don't rush into things."**

"Pritchard used to tell me the same thing," Crowley said wistfully. Gilan, surprised, opened his mouth to ask a question, but was cut off by Halt's autosnark.

"It never did sink in," Halt deadpanned.

**Gilan nodded, somewhat crestfallen. He looked even more so when Will dropped to the ground from the lowest branch and the tall Ranger saw how small and young the apprentice was.**

**"It appears," he said, "that I was so intent on catching myself an old gray** **fox"** \- Halt scowled, and Crowley sniggered - **"that I overlooked the small monkey hiding in the trees." He grinned at his own mistake.**

**"Monkey, is it?" Halt said gruffly. "I'd say he's made a monkey out of you today. Will, this is Gilan, my former apprentice and now Ranger of Meric Fief - although what they did to deserve him is beyond me."**

"What do you have against Meric Fief, Halt?" Baron Arald asked curiously.

Halt's eyes gleamed. "Absolutely nothing."

Gilan pouted.

**Gilan's grin widened and he held out his hand to Will.**

**"And just as I was thinking I'd finally got the better of you, Halt," he said cheerfully. "So you're Will," he continued, shaking hands firmly. "I'm pleased to meet you. That was a neat piece of work, young fellow."**

Will flushed happily and grinned.

**Will grinned at Halt and the older Ranger made a slight, meaningful movement of his head. Will remembered the final instructions that Halt had given him the night before: _Once you best a man, never gloat. Be generous and find something in his actions to praise. He won't enjoy being bested, but he'll make a good face of it. Show him you appreciate it. Praise can win you a friend. Gloating will only ever make enemies._**

**"Yes, I'm Will," he said. Then he added, "Could you perhaps teach me how you move like that? It was brilliant."**

**Gilan laughed ruefully. "Not too brilliant, I think. You obviously saw me coming from a long way away."**

Will shook his head. He really hadn't.

**Will shook his head, remembering how hard he'd tried to spot Gilan. Now that he thought of it, his praise and his request were more genuine than he'd realized.**

Gilan raised an eyebrow, and Will's flush deepened into embarrassment.

**"I saw you when you arrived," he said. And I saw where you'd been. But I never once saw you from the time you rounded that bend. I wish I could move like that."**

**Gilan's face showed his pleasure at Will's obvious sincerity.**

**"Well, Halt," he said, "I can see this young fellow doesn't merely have talent. He has excellent manners as well."**

"Where he got those, I'm not sure," Sir Rodney said, grinning at Halt, who just grunted.

**Halt regarded the two of them: his current apprentice and his former student. He nodded to Will, approving his tactful words.**

**"Unseen movement was always Gilan's best skill," he said. "You'd do well if he agreed to tutor you."**

Gilan beamed in a manner quite reminiscent of Will whenever Halt praised him.

**He moved toward his ex-apprentice and placed his arm around the taller man's shoulders. "It's good to see you again."**

**They embraced each other warmly. Then Halt held the other man at arm's length, studying him carefully.**

**"You get lankier every year," he said finally. "When are you going to put some meat on those bones?"**

Jenny poked Gilan in the ribs. "You see? You should _listen_ to me."

"I adore your cooking!" Gilan defended himself. Jenny's eyes narrowed.

"And yet you're still skinnier than a tournament flagpole."

**Gilan smiled. It was obviously an old joke between them. "You appear to have enough for both of us," he said. He poked Halt in the ribs, none too gently. "Is that the beginnings of a potbelly I see there?" He grinned at Will. "I'll wager he's sitting around the cabin letting you do all the housework these days?"**

"He did that with you too?" Will said with a grin. Gilan laughed and nodded.

**Before Halt or Will could reply, he turned away and let out a whistle. A few seconds later, his horse trotted around the bend in the road. As the tall young Ranger moved toward his horse and mounted, Will noticed a sword hanging in a scabbard from the saddle. He turned to Halt, puzzled.**

**"I thought we weren't allowed to have swords," he said quietly.**

"Because Rangers are so good at following rules," King Duncan muttered.

**Halt frowned for a moment, not understanding, then followed Will's gaze and realized what had prompted the question.**

**"It's not that we're allowed," he explained, as they both mounted. "It's a matter of priorities. It takes years to become a good swordsman and we don't have the time. We have other skills to develop."**

Crowley's mouth twitched. Well, if that wasn't the truth, nothing was.

**He saw the next question forming on Will's lips and went on.**

**"Gilan's father is a knight, so Gilan had already been training with the sword for some years before he joined the Rangers. He was considered a special case and he was allowed to continue that training when he was apprenticed to me."**

**"But I thought…," Will began and then hesitated. Gilan was trotting his horse toward them and he wasn't sure if it would be polite to ask his next question in front of him.**

**"Never say that in front of Halt," Gilan said, overhearing Will's last words. "He'll simply reply, 'You're an apprentice. You're not ready to think,' or 'If you thought about it, you wouldn't ask.'"**

Will grinned. Halt had told him such things on many occasions as an apprentice.

**Will had to smile. Halt had used those exact words to him on more than one occasion, and Gilan's impersonation of the older Ranger was uncanny. Now, however, both men were looking expectantly at him, waiting to hear the question he had been about to ask, so he plunged ahead.**

**"If Gilan's father was a knight, wasn't he automatically eligible for Battleschool? Or did they think he was too small as well?"**

Will introduced his forehead to the table. Gilan sniggered.

**Halt and Gilan exchanged a look. Halt raised one eyebrow, then gestured for Gilan to reply.**

**"I could have gone to Battleschool," he said. "But I chose to join the Rangers."**

**"Some of us do, you know," Halt put in mildly. Will thought this over. He had always assumed that the Rangers did not come from the ranks of the Kingdom's nobles. Apparently he was wrong.**

So very, very wrong. Sometimes they can even come from the royal family, after all.

**"But I thought…" he began and instantly realized his mistake. Halt and Gilan looked at him, then looked at each other, and said in chorus:**

**"You're an apprentice. You're not ready to think."**

"And so it begins," Will said with a mock-sigh.

**Then they wheeled their horses and trotted off. Will hurriedly retrieved Tug and cantered after them. As he caught up, the two Rangers edged their horses to either side, allowing him space to ride between them. Gilan grinned once at him. Halt was as grim as ever. But as they continued in a companionable silence, Will became aware of the comforting realization that he was now a part of an exclusive, tightly knit group.**

**It was a warm sense of belonging, as if, somehow, he had arrived home for the first time in his life.**

There was a little sting to those words for Baron Arald (had his Ward never felt like home?) but he shrugged it off. Rangers were, after all, strange folk.

Crowley, on the other hand, was wearing a broad and completely genuine smile.


	25. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will reads Chapter Twenty-four of Ruins of Gorlan. Kalkara-inspired tension ensues.

Will accepted the book from Crowley with a bit of a smile on his face.

**"Something's happened," Halt said quietly, signaling for his two companions to rein in their horses.**

"Of course," Gilan sighed.

**The three riders had cantered the last half a kilometer to the Gathering Ground. Now, as they crested a slight rise, the open space among the trees lay just below them, a hundred meters away. Small, one-man tents stretched in ordered ranks, and the smoke of cooking fires scented the air. An archery range had been set up to one side of the open space, and several dozen horses, all small and shaggy Ranger horses, were grazing close to the trees.**

"Doesn't sound too far removed from a typical army camp," Duncan observed.

Crowley shook his head. "It's not, actually. Less blacksmiths and more archers, of course, but the basic structure is quite similar."

**Even from where they sat on their horses, they could make out an air of urgency and activity throughout the camp. In the center of the tent lines was a larger pavilion, easily four meters by four meters and with enough head room for a tall man to stand. The sides were currently rolled up and Will could see a group of green and grey clad men standing around a table, apparently deep in conversation. As they watched, one of the group detached himself, running to a horse waiting just outside the entrance. He mounted and spun the horse on its back legs, setting out through the camp at a gallop, heading for the narrow track through the trees at the far side.**

Crowley's eyes narrowed briefly as he tried to recall who that might have been. He thought it could have been Lewin.

**He had barely disappeared into the deep shadows under the trees when another rider appeared from the opposite direction, galloping through the lines and reining in outside the large tent. His horse had barely stopped before he swung down and headed in to join the group inside.**

**"What is it?" Will asked. Frowning, he realized that several of the small tents were being struck and rolled up by their owners.**

**"Not sure," Halt replied.**

"The world must be ending," Alyss said with a grin. Halt turned to glare at her, but she smiled innocently and he sighed.

**He gestured to the tent lines. "See if you can find us a decent campsite. I'll see what's going on."**

"'I'll see what's going on,' he says," Crowley muttered. "Like he's just going out to pick up the groceries -"

"Are you done?" Halt interrupted acidly.

Crowley nodded, grinning.

**He urged Abelard forward, then turned and called back: "Don't pitch the tents yet. From the looks of things, we may not be needing them." Then Abelard's hooves were drumming on the turf as he galloped toward the center of camp.**

"With more explanation than he usually gives us," Will commented, with Gilan and Horace both nodding in fervent agreement.

**Will and Gilan found a campsite under a large tree, reasonably close to the central gathering area. Then, uncertain as to what they should do next, they sat on a log, waiting for Halt's return. As a senior Ranger in the Corps, Halt had access to the larger pavilion, which Gilan explained was the command tent. The Corps commandant, a Ranger named Crowley, would meet with his staff there each day to organize activities and to collate and evaluate the reports and information that individual Rangers brought to the Gathering.**

**Most of the tents near the two younger Rangers were unoccupied, but there was a thin gangly Ranger outside one, pacing impatiently back and forth, looking every bit as confused as Gilan and Will. Seeing them on the log, he moved over to join them.**

**"Any news?" he said immediately, and his face fell when Gilan answered.**

**"We were just about to ask you the same question." He held out his hand in greeting. "It's Merron, isn't it?" he said and they shook hands.**

"Was that the same Ranger as from Norgate?" Horace asked, leaning forward curiously.

Will shook his head. "That was Meralon," he corrected his friend.

Horace nodded and settled back in his seat.

"Who's this Meralon?" King Duncan asked curiously, not recalling the name.

"Former Ranger of Norgate Fief," Crowley answered. "And about as useless as a Ranger can get."

"Which is incredibly useless," Sir Rodney contributed, earning him glared from all the assembled Rangers (as well as Horace, Alyss, and Lady Pauline). "You know what I'm talking about!" he protested, directing his words at Halt and Crowley.

Halt nodded. "Morgarath's Rangers _were_ rather useless," he pointed out to Crowley, who was still bristling at the insult to his beloved Corps, and merely grunted. Nevertheless, he dropped the glare.

**"That's right. And you're Gilan if I remember correctly." Gilan introduced Will, and the newcomer, who appeared to be in his early thirties, looked at him speculatively.**

**"So you're Halt's new apprentice," he said. "We wondered what you'd be like. I was going to be one of your assessors, you know."**

"Going to - _what did you do._ " Alyss did not spare the thought for a question mark as she frowned mock-seriously at Will.

Will held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't do anything!"

**"Going to be?" Gilan asked quickly, and Merron looked at him.**

**"Yes. I doubt we'll continue with the Gathering now." He hesitated, then added, "You mean you haven't heard?" The two newcomers shook their heads.**

**"Morgarath is up to something again," he said quietly, and Will felt a shiver of fear up his spine at the mention of that evil name.**

The reaction repeated itself around the table, the previous good humor from Will and Alyss's exchange vanishing like dew under the noonday sun.

**"What's happened?" Gilan asked, his eyes narrowing. Merron shook his head, stirring the dirt in front of him with the toe of his boot in a frustrated gesture.**

**"There's no clear news so far. Only garbled reports. But it looks as if a force of Wargals broke out of Three Step Pass some days ago. They overran the sentries there and headed north."**

"Wonderful, just what we wanted to hear," Gilan said with false cheer.

"How is that considered 'garbled'?" Jenny wondered. "It seems fairly clear."

**"Was Morgarath with them?" Gilan asked. Will remained wide-eyed and silent. He couldn't bring himself to ask any questions - couldn't bring himself to actually mention Morgarath's name.**

(Will rolled his eyes and his younger self's blatant melodrama.)

**Merron shrugged in reply. "We don't know. Don't think so at this stage, but Crowley has been sending scouts out for the past two days. Could be it's just a raid. But if it's more than that, it could mean the start of another war. If so, it's a bad time to lose Lord Lorriac."**

**Gilan looked up, concern in his voice. "Lorriac is dead?" he asked, and Merron nodded.**

**"A stroke apparently. Or his heart. He was found dead a few days ago, not a mark on him. Staring straight ahead. Stone cold dead."**

**"But he was in his prime!" Gilan said. "I saw him only a month ago and he was as healthy as a bull."**

**Merron shrugged. He had no explanation. He only knew the facts for the matter. "I suppose it can happen to anyone," he said. "You just never know."**

"I thought you Rangers were supposed to be a suspicious lot?" Baron Arald asked. Sir Rodney muttered something to his friend that got him kicked under the table.

Crowley sniggered.

**"Who's Lord Lorriac?" Will asked Gilan quietly.**

"Commander of the heavy cavalry," Sir Rodney supplied instantly.

**The young Ranger shook his head thoughtfully as he answered.**

**"Lorriac of Steden. He was the leader of the King's heavy cavalry. Probably our best cavalry commander. As Merron said, if there's a war, he'll be sorely missed."**

The corners of Crowley's mouth twitched. "Some things never change."

Rodney shrugged.

 **A cold hand of fear closed around Will's heart. All his life people had spoken in whispers of Morgarath, if they had spoken of him at all. The Great** **Enemy** \- "Great Enemy, oh please," Crowley muttered - **had assumed the proportions almost of a myth - a legend from the old, dark days. Now the myth was becoming reality once more - a terrifying reality. He looked at Gilan for reassurance, but the young Ranger's face showed nothing but doubt and concern for the future.**

"As well it should," Duncan said darkly, recalling quite clearly what had happened the first time Morgarath tried to take over.

**It was almost an hour before Halt rejoined them. As it was after midday, Will and Gilan had prepared a meal of bread, cold meat and dried fruit. The gray haired Ranger slid down from Abelard's saddle and accepted a plate from Will, eating the food in quick bites.**

**"The Gathering's over," he said shortly, between mouthfuls.**

"Really," Will said, perfectly deadpan. Halt glared at his apprentice, who stared back innocently.

"Those two ought to play poker some time," Alyss said.

"You would win," Will told her quietly (coincidentally, Halt said much the same thing to Lady Pauline at the same time).

**Seeing the senior Ranger's arrival, Merron had drifted back to joined their group. He and Halt greeted each other briefly, then Merron posed the question that was on all their minds.**

**"Is it war?" he asked anxiously, and Halt shook his head.**

"Not yet, anyway," Horace amended.

"Mind you, it wasn't a very long war," Rodney said thoughtfully, nodding at Horace. "Thanks to someone."

Horace flushed.

**"We don't know for certain. Latest reports show that Morgarath is still in the mountains."**

**"Then why did the Wargals break out?" Will asked. Everyone knew that Wargals only did the will of Morgarath. They never would have performed such a radical act without his direction. Halt's face was grim as he answered.**

**"They're only a small party - perhaps fifty of them. They were intended to act as a diversion. While our guards were busy chasing the Wargals, Crowley thinks that the two Kalkara slipped out of the mountains and are holed up somewhere on the Solitary Plain."**

The room was silent, until

**Gilan gave a low whistle. Merron actually took a step back in surprise. Both the younger Rangers' faces showed their utter horror at the news. Will had no idea what the Kalkara might be, but judging from Halt's expression and the reactions of Gilan and Merron, they were obviously not good news.**

**"You mean they still exist?" Merron said. "I thought they died out years ago."**

**"Oh, they still exist all right," Halt said. "There are only two of them left, buts that's enough to worry about."**

**There was a long silence between them. Finally, hesitantly, Will had to ask:**

**"What are they?"**

**Halt shook his head sadly. It was not a subject that he wanted to discuss with someone as young as Will. But, knowing what lay ahead of them all, he had no choice. The boy had to know.**

**"When Morgarath was planning his rebellion, he wanted more than an ordinary army. He knew that if he could terrify his enemies, his task would be far easier. So over the years, he made several expeditions into the Mountains of Rain and Night, searching."**

**"Searching for what?" Will asked, although he had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew what the answer would be.**

**'For allies he could use against the kingdom. The Mountains are an ancient, undisturbed part of the world. They've remained unchanged for centuries and there were rumors that strange beasts and ancient monsters still lived there. The rumors turned out to be all too true."**

**"Like the Wargals," Will put in, and Hat nodded.**

**"Yes. Like the Wargals. And he very quickly enslaved them and bent them to his will," he said with a touch of bitterness in his voice.**

**"But then he found the Kalkara. And they're worse than Wargals. Much, much worse."**

**Will said nothing. The thought of beasts that were worse than Wargals was a disturbing one, to say the least.**

**"There were three of them. But one was killed about eight years ago, so we know a little more about them. Think of a creature somewhere between an ape and a bear, that walks upright, and you'll have an idea of what a Kalkara looks like."**

"So they are...ape-bear assassins," Jenny said carefully, trying (and failing) to keep the skepticism out of her voice. Cassandra snorted.

"...you know, they don't sound as terrifying when you put it like that," Gilan muttered. Jenny grinned.

**"So does Morgarath control them with is mind, like the Wargals?" Will asked. Halt shook his head.**

**"No. They're more intelligent than Wargals. But they are totally obsessed with silver. They worship it and hoard it and Morgarath apparently gives it to them in large amounts so they'll do his bidding. And they do it well. They can be incredibly cunning while they stalk their prey."**

**"Prey?" Will asked. "What sort of prey?"**

"People," Halt said grimly, rubbing his leg unconsciously.

Will and Gilan both noticed the motion, and a muscle around Will's eyebrow started twitching.

**Halt and Gilan exchanged a glance and Will could see that his mentor was reluctant to talk about the subject. For a moment, he thought Halt was going to begin another dissertations on Will's endless questions. But then he realized this was a far more serious matter than idle curiosity as the grizzled Ranger replied quietly, "The Kalkara are assassins. Once they've been given a specific victim, they will do anything in their power to reach that person and kill them."**

"Ape-bear assassins," Jenny muttered again, shaking her head.

**"Can't we stop them?" Will asked, his gaze shifting briefly to Halt's massive longbow and the bristling quiver of black arrows.**

**"They're very difficult to kill. They have a thick hair covering that's matted and bonded together so that it's almost like scales. An arrow will hardly penetrate. A battleax or a broadsword is best against them. Or a good thrust with a heavy spear might do the job."**

**Will felt a moment of relief. The Kalkara had started to sound almost invincible. But there were plenty of accomplished knights in the Kingdom who would doubtless be able to account for them.**

"Hah," Sir Rodney said dully.

**"So was it a knight who killed the one eight years ago?" he asked. Halt shook his head.**

**"Not a knight. Three. It took three fully armed knights to kill it, and only one of them survived the battle. What's more, he was crippled for life," Halt finished grimly.**

King Duncan nodded. He'd known the knight in question - Sir Haddington. He'd been a good man. Dead, nearly fifteen years past. His wife and son had been devastated. Of course, his son Tevon was a knight himself now.

**"Three men? All of them knights?" Will said incredulously. "But how-"**

**Gilan interrupted him before he could finish. "The problem is, if you get close enough to use a sword or spear, the Kalkara can usually stop you before you have a chance."**

Gilan was doing the same thing now, with a slightly distant look in his eyes.

**As he spoke, his fingers drummed lightly on the hilt of the sword that he wore at his waist.**

**"How does it stop you?" Will asked, the momentary feeling of relief instantly dispelled by Gilan's words. This time it was Merron who answered.**

**"Its eyes," the gangly Ranger said. "If you look into its eyes, you are frozen helpless-the way a snake freezes a bird with its gaze before it kills it."**

A muscle in Baron Arald's jaw jumped. Sir Rodney nudged him gently.

**Will looked from one to the other of the three men, uncomprehending. What Merron was saying seemed too far-fetched to be true. Yet Halt wasn't contradicting him.**

**"Freezes you…how can it do that? Are you talking about magic here?"**

"Hypnosis," Horace said. Everyone looked at him. He shrugged uncomfortably.

"I asked Malcolm about it. That was what he thought - some kind of hypnosis."

"Like Sir Keren," Alyss said.

Horace coughed awkwardly. "Er - yes," he stammered.

Will looked ready to kill something. It was quite unnerving.

**Halt shrugged. Merron looked away uncomfortably. None of them liked discussing this subject.**

**"Some people call it magic," Halt finally said. "I think it's more likely a form of hypnotism. Either way, Merron is right. If a Kalkara can make you look into its eyes, you become paralyzed by sheer terror, unable to do anything to save yourself."**

Baron Arald glanced at Sir Rodney, who shrugged halfheartedly. The rest of the people at the table got the distinct impression that most of a conversation had taken place without them knowing about it.

Perhaps that was why Halt had a perpetual scowl when he was in Redmont Fief.

**Will glanced around anxiously, as if expecting any moment to see an ape-bear creature charging out of the silent trees. He could feel panic growing in his chest. Somehow, he'd come to think of Halt as invincible. Yet here he was, seeming to admit that there was no defense against these vile monsters.**

**"Isn't there anything you can do?" he asked in a hopeless voice. Halt shrugged.**

**"Legend has it that they are particularly vulnerable to fire."**

"Fire arrows!" Will said with fake cheer. "Just don't burn yourself. It hurts."

"Yes, Will, I would imagine it would," Alyss said dryly.

Gilan just shook his head. "I can't believe we didn't think of that earlier," he muttered.

**"Problem is, as before, getting close enough to do any damage. Carrying a naked flame makes it a little difficult to stalk a Kalkara. They tend to hunt at night and they can see you coming."**

"Mind you," Baron Arald cut in, "if you don't have that open flame at night, you're liable to run face-first into a tree and do their killing for them."

"Just can't win," Cassandra muttered.

**Will found it difficult to believe what he was hearing. Halt seemed so matter-of-fact about it all,**

"Halt usually does," King Duncan said dryly, with a mock glare at the Ranger.

**and Gilan and Merron were obviously disturbed by his news.**

"Who wouldn't?!" Jenny exclaimed.

"Halt," was the unanimous reply.

**There was an awkward silence, which Gilan broke by asking, "What makes Crowley think that Morgarath is using them?"**

**Halt hesitated. He'd been told Crowley's thoughts in private council. Then he shrugged. They'd all need to know about it sooner or later and they were all members of the Ranger Corps, even Will.**

"Oh, thanks!" Will exclaimed, at the same time that Crowley snarked, "It's so nice to know I can count on you, Halt."

Halt looked as though he'd just been done great injury. Which is to say, he looked like someone had told him they didn't like coffee.

**"He's already used them twice in the past year-to kill Lord Northolt and Lord Lorriac." The three younger men all exchanged puzzled glances, so he went on. "Northolt was thought to be killed by a bear, remember?"**

"The claws," King Duncan muttered, understanding. Halt nodded.

**Will nodded slowly. He remembered now. On his first day as Halt's apprentice, The Ranger had received news of the supreme commander's death. "I thought at the time that Northolt was too skilled a hunter to be killed that way. Crowley evidently agrees."**

Halt gestured triumphantly to the book that held the words that Will had just read aloud. "There, you see?" he asked Pauline. "I _didn't_ let it go."

"If you say so, dear."

**"But what about Lorriac? Everyone said it was a stroke." It was Merron who asked this question.**

**"You'd heard that, had you? Well, his physician was most surprised. Said he'd never seen a healthier man. On the other hand…" He paused, and Gilan finished the thought.**

**"It could have been the work of the Kalkara."**

**Halt nodded. "Exactly. We don't know the full effects of the freezing stare they've developed. Maintained over a long enough time, the terror could well be enough to stop a man's heart. And there were vague reports that a larger, dark animal was seen in the area."**

"And since it's out of season for bears..." Sir Rodney started, exchanging another of those maddeningly meaningful glances with Baron Arald, leaving Halt wondering just what on Earth those two were talking about and weren't saying.

**Again, silence settled over the small group under the trees. Around them, Rangers bustled to and fro, striking camp and saddling their horses. Halt finally roused them all from their thoughts.**

**"We'd best be moving. Merron, you'll need to return to your fief. Crowley wants the army alerted and mobilized. Orders will be distributed in a few minutes."**

"Always fun."

**Merron nodded and turned away toward his campsite. He paused and turned back. Something in Halt's voice, the way he had said "you'll need to return to you fief," had made him think.**

**"What about you three?" he said. "Where are you going?"**

**Even before Halt answered, Will knew what he was going to say. But that didn't make it any less terrifying or blood-chilling when the words were said.**

**"We're going after the Kalkara."**

"Yay," Will said dully.


	26. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassie reads Chapter Twenty-five of Ruins of Gorlan. Language analysis ensues.

"And we're back to you, Cassie," Horace said, transferring the book from his best friend to his wife.

**The camp buzzed with activity as tents came down and Rangers repacked their equipment and tied on their saddle bags. Already, the first few riders had departed, heading back to their own fiefs.**

"Where else would they be heading?" Halt grumbled.

"Oh, I don't know," Gilan said, with false cheer. "Out on a mad chase after two ape-bear assassins that can freeze people with their eyes alone and take three knights to kill just one?"

Halt glared at him. Will sniggered.

**Will was fastening the ties on their saddle packs, having replaced the few items they had taken out. Halt sat a few meters away, frowning thoughtfully as he studied a map of the area surrounding Solitary Plain.**

**The Plain itself was a vast, unmapped area, with no roads and few features indicated. A shadow fell across him and he looked up. Gilan stood there, a worried look on his face.**

**"Halt," he said in a low, concerned voice. "Are you sure about this?"**

"Would I be doing this if I wasn't?" Halt snapped. Gilan raised his hands in surrender, and Pauline elbowed her husband gently.

"Dear..."

Halt harrumphed, but said nothing further. His nerves, already strained at the idea of exposing his apprentice to danger, had come dangerously close to snapping at Gilan's question in the book.

**Halt met his gaze steadily. "Very sure, Gilan. It simply has to be done."**

**"But he's only a boy!" Gilan protested, looking quickly to where Will was tying a pack roll back in place behind Tug's saddle.**

"Thank you, Gilan."

"You were!"

**Halt let go a long breath, his eyes dropping from Gilan's as he spoke.**

**"I know that. But he's a Ranger. Apprentice or not, he's a member of the Corps, like all of us."**

Will brightened visibly at that.

**He saw that Gilan was about to protest further, out of concern for Will, and he felt a surge of affection for his old apprentice.**

**"Gilan, in a ideal world, I wouldn't put him at risk like this. But this isn't an ideal word. Everyone's going to have to play his part in this campaign, even boys like Will. Morgarath is preparing for something big. Crowley's agents have got wind that, on top of everything else, he's been in touch with the Skandians."**

Will muttered something that caused Alyss to nudge him reproachfully.

Cassandra merely shook her head. "You'll be saying worse before the books are over," she told the other girl. Alyss's lips thinned considerably. She knew the gist of what had happened to Will in Skandia, but he had never told her the full story. She'd asked Halt, but he'd refused to tell her, saying it was Will's choice, not his.

_"If it makes you feel any better," he'd told her, a rare, sad smile on his face, "I doubt he would have told Horace the whole thing either."_

**"The Skandians? What for?"**

"What do you think?" Gilan muttered.

**Halt shrugged. "We don't know the details, but my bet is he's hoping to form an alliance with them. They'll fight anyone for money. And apparently, they'll fight for anyone as well," he added, his distaste for the mercenaries obvious in his voice.**

"Give it a few years, Halt. They'll grow on you," Will said dryly. Halt managed a tight, humorless smile.

**"The point is, we're shorthanded enough while Crowley tries to raise the army. Normally, I wouldn't go after the Kalkara with a force of less than five senior Rangers. But he simply can't spare them for me. So I've had to settle for the two I trust most - you and Will."**

Both Will and Gilan flushed red at the praise.

Gilan grinned crookedly. "Well, thanks for that, anyway." He was touched by Halt's confidence. He still looked up to his old mentor. Most of the Ranger Corps did.

Halt looked surprised. Crowley looked at him.

"You didn't know?" he asked, a small - and genuine - smile forming on his face.

Halt shook his head. "I had no idea."

**"Besides, I thought that rusty old sword of yours might come in handy if we run into those horrors," Halt said.**

"Oi! My sword is not rusty!"

**The Ranger Corps had chosen wisely when they allowed Gilan to continue his training with the weapon. Although very few people knew it, Gilan was one of the finest swordsmen in Araluen.**

"Who, by all reports, was beaten by an old one-handed man," King Duncan said dryly.

"Dad!" Cassandra groaned.

But Gilan conceded the point. "He was an excellent fighter," he said simply. "Even for a Skandian," he added. Sir Rodney looked thoughtful, but Baron Arald elbowed his friend.

"Don't even think about it," he hissed.

"Think about what?" Sir Rodney asked innocently.

"You know what."

Cassandra cleared her throat, and the two men looked up apologetically.

**"As for Will," Halt continued, "don't sell him short. He's very resourceful. He's quick and brave and a damn good shot already. Best of all, he thinks quickly. My real thinking is that if we get on the trail of the Kalkara, we can send him for reinforcements. That'll help us and keep him out of harm's way."**

**Gilan scratched his chin thoughtfully. Now that Halt had explained it, it seemed the only logical course for them to take. He met the older man's eyes and nodded his understanding of the situation. Then he turned to organize his own kit, only to find that Will had already repacked it and tied it to his saddle. He smiled at Halt.**

**"You're right," he said. "He does think for himself."**

"And, on occasion, the both of you as well," Will contributed.

Halt glared at him.

**The three of them rode out a little while later, while the other Rangers were still receiving their orders. Mobilizing the Araluen army would be no small task, and it would be the Ranger's job to coordinate it, then be ready to guide the individual forces from the fifty fiefs to their assembly point at the Plains of Uthal. With both Gilan and Halt assigned to searching for the Kalkara, other Rangers had to be tasked with coordinating the forces from their fiefs as well.**

**There was little said between the three companions as Halt led the way to the southwest. Even Will's natural curiosity was subdued by the magnitude of the task ahead of them. As they rode in silence his mind's eye kept conjuring images of savage bearlike creatures with the features of apes-creatures that might well prove to be invincible, even for someone of Halt's skill.**

**Eventually, however, as monotony set in, the horrific images receded and he began to wonder what plan, if any, Halt had in mind.**

"Halt," he said, a little breathlessly, "where do you hope to find the Kalkara?"

"Well, never would have been nice, but seeing as that wasn't an option...anywhere but Gorlan," Halt replied dryly.

**He looked at the serious young face beside him. They were traveling at the Ranger's forced march pace-forty minutes in the saddle, ridding at a steady canter, then twenty minutes on foot, leading the horses and allowing them to travel unburdened, while the men ran at a steady trot.**

**Every four hours, they would pause for one hour's rest, when they ate a quick meal of dried meat, hard bread and fruit, then rolled into their cloaks to sleep.**

The thoughtful look on Sir Rodney's face was back, but this time it seemed to have spread to Baron Arald and King Duncan as well. The first two were having another of their silent conversations, while the King seemed content to keep his own council for now.

They had been leading the horses for some time now and Halt judged that it was to rest. He led Abelard off the road and into the shelter of a grove of trees. Will and Gilan followed, dropping the reins and allowing their horses to graze.

**"The best way I can think of," Halt said, in answer to Will's question, "is to start at their lair and see if they're in the vicinity."**

**"Do we know where that is?" Gilan asked.**

**"Best intelligence we have is that it's somewhere on the Solitary Plain, beyond the Stone Flutes. We'll scout around that area and see what we can find. If they're in the area, we should find that the odd sheep or goat is going missing from villages nearby. Although getting the villagers themselves to talk will be another matter. Plainspeople are a closemouthed bunch at the best of times."**

"What are they at the worst of times?" Jenny wanted to know.

Halt shrugged. "Trying to kill you."

**"What's this Plain you're talking about?" Will asked, thorough a mouthful of hard bread. "And what on earth is a Stone Flute?"**

**"The Solitary Plain is a vast flat area - very few trees, mainly covered in rock outcrops and long grass," Halt told him. "The wind seems to always be blowing, no matter what time of year you go there. It's a dismal, depressing place and the Stone Flutes are the most dismal part of it."**

**"But what are…" Will began, but Halt had only paused briefly.**

**"The Stone Flutes? Nobody really knows. They're a circle of standing stones built by the ancients, smack in the middle of the windiest part of the Plain.**

**"Nobody has ever worked out their original purpose but they're arranged in such a way that the wind is deflected around the circle, a constant keening sound, although why anyone thought they sounded like flutes is beyond me. The sound is eerie and discordant and you can hear it from kilometers away. After a few minutes, it sets your teeth on edge - and it goes on and on for hours."**

"Sounds like a lovely place," Lady Pauline commented dryly.

**Will was silent. The thought of a dismal, windswept plain and stones that emitted a nonstop, keening wail seemed to take the last vestige of warmth from the late afternoon sun. He shivered involuntarily. Halt saw the movement and leaned forward to clap him on the shoulder encouragingly.**

**"Cheer up," he said. "Nothing's ever as bad as it sounds."**

"Ha-ha," Will muttered. "Yeah, right."

**"Now let's get some rest."**

**They reached the outskirts of the Solitary Plain by noon the second day. Halt was right, Will thought, it was a vast, depressing place. The featureless ground stretched out before them for kilometer after kilometer, covered in tall gray grass, made rank and dry by the constant wind.**

**The wind itself almost seemed to be a living presence. It rubbed on their nerves, blowing constantly and unvaryingly** \- "is that an actual word?" Cassandra asked, looking up doubtfully from the book.

Horace shrugged. Alyss deferred to Lady Pauline, who looked thoughtful.

"It follows the correct structure," she began, "with 'vary' as the root of the word, and the suffix '-ing' added to transform it into an adjective. With the addition of the prefix 'un-' to make the word negative, we transform the meaning instead of the part of speech - instead of 'to differ in size, form, or nature', the word now means 'to be constant in size, form, or nature'. We are now left with 'unvarying', a widely accepted and used word.

"The controversy, I believe, springs from the addition of a second suffix, '-ly'. The suffix '-ly' is generally held to have three standard uses - one, to indicate similarity to the root word, for example, the word 'motherly'; two, to indicate an action was done in the way indicated by the stem, example 'wrongly'; three, to indicate the occurrence of an event at a particular interval. In the case of 'unvaryingly', the suffix '-ly' is used in the second manner, to indicate that the wind was blowing in an unvarying manner. Therefore, as all prefixes and suffixes are used in the proper manner and the word is used in the correct fashion of a word - to convey distinct meaning - we can conclude that 'unvaryingly' is, in fact, a word."

(The author promptly added 'unvaryingly' to her spellcheck's dictionary.)

Understanding dawned on Cassandra and her father at the same moment, half a heartbeat after Lady Pauline had finished speaking. Baron Arald was working through Lady Pauline's rapid-fire dissection of 'unvaryingly' at a slightly slower pace, and came to an understanding a couple seconds behind the King and his daughter. Sir Rodney and Horace looked hopelessly confused. The Battlemaster turned to his friend, while Horace turned to Cassandra for explanations.

Crowley just stared, while Halt tried not to look smug. Alyss beamed at her mentor, who smiled back.

**...from the west, bending the tall grass before it as it swept across the flat ground of the Solitary Plain.**

**"Now you can see why they call it the Solitary Plain," Halt said to the two of them, reining Abelard in so they could come abreast of him. "When you ride out into this damned wind, you feel as if you're the only person left alive on earth."**

Cassandra coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "Celtica," and Horace turned a snort of laughter into a hasty cough that fooled nobody.

**It was true, Will thought. He felt small and insignificant against the emptiness of the Plain. And with the felling of insignificance came an accompanying feeling of impotence. The wasteland they were riding across seemed to hint at the presences of arcane forces - forces far greater than his own capabilities. Even Gilan, normally cheerful and ebullient,**

"Ebullient?" Gilan repeated, raising an eyebrow in Will's direction.

Will glared back. "Hey, I didn't write this!"

"Boys..." Alyss started, just as Cassandra cleared her throat.

Both Will and Gilan shut up instantly.

**seemed affected by the heavy, depressing atmosphere of the place. Only Halt seemed unchanged, remaining grim and taciturn as ever.**

"That's Halt," Crowley said, nudging his friend affectionately.

**Gradually, as they rode, Will became aware of disquieting sensation. Something was lurking, just outside the range of his conscious perception. Something that made him feel uneasy. He couldn't isolate it, couldn't even tell where it was coming from or what form it took.**

The paranoia of all those present took a giant leap upwards. Those armed - most of the assembled, with Jenny being the only exception, unless one counted her spoon (Will did) - checked their knives or swords or slings.

**It was there, ever present. He shifted in his saddle, standing in the stirrups to scan the featureless horizon in the hopes that he might see the source of it all. Halt noticed the movement.**

**"You've noticed it, then," he said. "It's the Stones."**

Gilan muttered a curse.

Jenny frowned. "Was it really that bad?" she asked nervously.

Gilan shook his head. "Not the Stones themselves, no. They're just...grating," he explained, pausing to search for the right word.

**And now that Halt said it, Will realized that it had been a sound - so faint and so continuous that he couldn't isolate it as such - that had been creating the sense of unease in his mind, and the tight cramping of fear in the pit of his stomach. Or perhaps it was just that as Halt said it, they came into proper earshot of the Stone Flutes. Because now he could isolate it. It was a unmelodic series of musical notes, all played at once but creating a harsh, discordant sound that jangled the nerves and unsettled the mind. His left had crept unobtrusively to the hilt of his saxe knife as he rode, and he drew comfort from the solid, dependable touch of the weapon.**

Will - and several others - were doing the same thing now.

**They rode on through the afternoon, never seeming to advance across the empty, featureless Plain. With each pace their horses took, the horizons behind and before them seemed to neither recede no draw closer. It was as if they were marking time in an empty world. The constant keening sound of the Stone Flutes with them all day, growing gradually stronger as they traveled. It was the only sign that they were making progress. The hours passed and the sound continued and Will found it no easier to bear. It wore at his nerves, keeping him constantly on edge. As the sun began to sink at the western rim, Halt reined Abelard in.**

**"We'll rest for the night," he announced. "It's almost impossible to maintain a constant course in the dark. Without any significant land features to set a course by, we could easily wind up going around in circles."**

**Gratefully, the others dismounted. Fit as they were, the hours spent at forced march pace had left them bone weary.**

Sir Rodney made a few addendums to his mental notes.

**Will began scouting around the few stunted bushes that grew on the Plain, searching for firewood. Halt, realizing what was in his mind, shook his head.**

**"No fire," he said. "We'd be visible for miles and we have no idea who might be watching."**

**Will paused, letting the small bundle he had gathered fall to the ground. "You mean the Kalkara?" he said. Halt shrugged.**

**"Them, or Plainspeople. We can't be sure that some of them aren't in league with the Kalkara. After all, living check by jowl with creatures like that, you might well end up cooperating with them, just to ensure your own safety. And we don't want them getting word there are strangers on the Plain."**

"Who are the Plainspeople?" Jenny asked curiously, leaning forward.

Gilan went to answer, then stopped, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "They're...difficult to explain. We don't really know much about them. Nobody's ever managed to establish any sort of lasting contact with them, but they've never really made a problem of themselves either. In the end, we both sort of try to forget the other exists."

**Gilan was unsaddling Blaze, his bay horse. He dropped the saddle to the ground and rubbed the horse down with a handful of the ever-present dry grass.**

**"You don't think we've been seen already?" he asked. Halt considered the question for a few seconds before answering.**

**"We might have been. There are just too many unknowns here - where the Kalkara actually have their lair, whether or not the Plainspeople are their allies, whether or not any of them have seen us and reported our presence. But until I know we have been seen, we'll assume we haven't. So, no fire."**

Jenny was frowning again. "If you _were_ seen," she asked slowly, "wouldn't you still want to have no fire? Wouldn't it blind you if they decided to attack?"

It was (rather predictably) Gilan who answered her. "It's a matter of knowing how to use the fire," he explained. "It can be just as much a help as a hindrance in a fight, depending on who you're fighting, how much experience you have, and how intuitive you are. But it's as good as a big lit-up sign that screams 'Here I am! Come kill me! if you haven't."

Jenny nodded, and smiled at Gilan, who flushed.

Crowley sniggered. Halt elbowed him gently.

**Gilan nodded reluctantly. "You're right of course," he said. "It's just I'd happily kill someone for a cup of coffee."**

**"Light a fire to brew it," Halt told him, "and you might end up having to do just that."**

"I believe that would be a some _thing,_ Halt," Will said seriously.

"Two somethings, actually," Horace contributed.

Halt glared at them both _._


	27. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyss reads Chapter Twenty-six of Ruins of Gorlan. We're still complaining about the word choice.

Cassandra passed the book wordlessly to Alyss, who accepted it equally silently and began to read.

**It was a cold, cheerless camp. Tired from the hard pace they had been keeping up, the Rangers ate a cold meal-bread, dried fruit and cold meat once more, washed down with cold water from their canteens. Will was beginning to hate the sight of the virtually tasteless hard rations they carried. Then Halt took the first watch as Will and Gilan rolled themselves into their cloaks and slept.**

**It wasn't the first rough camp that Will had endured since his training period began. But this was the first time there wasn't the slight comfort of a crackling fire, or at least a bed of warm coals, to sleep by.**

"You'll get used to it," Halt said dryly.

Will made a face. "Unfortunately."

**He slept fitfully, uncomfortable dreams chasing through his subconscious-dreams of fearful creatures, strange and terrifying things that stayed just outside his consciousness, but close enough to the surface that he felt their presence, and was unsettled by them.**

**He was almost glad when Halt shook him gently awake for his watch.**

"Good, you can take mine next time."

**The wind was scudding clouds across the moon.**

"'Scudding'?" King Duncan repeated, frowning.

Everyone looked to Lady Pauline, who nodded. "Scudding, a form of the verd 'to scud', meaning 'to move fast in a straight line because of as if driven by the wind'. A perfectly valid word choice, particularly for scribes," she added with a slight smile. Arald snorted. Halt raised an eyebrow in Will's direction.

"I _didn't write these,"_ Will ground out.

**The moaning song of the Stones was stronger than ever. Will felt a weariness of spirit and wondered if the Stones had been designed to wear people down like this.**

"'Weariness of spirit'? Who wrote this, George?" Will demanded. Horace snorted.

**The long grass around them hissed a counterpoint to the far-off keening. Halt pointed to a spot in the heaves, indicating an angle of elevation for Will to remember.**

**"When the moon reaches that angle," he told the apprentice, "turn over the watch to Gilan."**

"Since you don't want to sleep, can you take my watch too?" Gilan asked with a grin.

Will glared at him in response.

**Will nodded, rousing himself and standing to stretch his stiff muscles. He picked up his bow and quiver and walked away ten or twenty meters, and found a place of concealment. That way, strangers coming upon the campsite would be less likely to see them. It was one of the many skills Will had learned in his months of training.**

"So it wasn't completely wasted," Halt said dryly. "Good to know. Sometimes I wondered if you were even paying attention."

Will flushed.

**He took two arrows from the quiver and held them between the fingers of his bow hand. He would hold them thus for the four hours of his watch. If he needed them, there would be no excessive movement as he took an arrow from his quiver - movement that might alert an attacker.**

Rodney made a note of that. His knights and men-at-arms were considerably less stealthy than a Ranger, but having one's weapon drawn during watch would save that critical second it took to draw a sword or ready a spear.

**Then he flipped the cowl of his cloak over his head so he would merge with the irregular shape of the bush. His head and eyes scanned from side to side as Halt had taught him, changing focus constantly, from close to the campsite and out to the dim horizon around them. That way, his vision would not become fixated on one distance and one area and he'd stand a better chance of seeing movement.**

"Taking notes, Rodney?" Crowley teased, noticing the Battlemaster's intent expression as he listened to Alyss read.

"I'd be a fool not to," the Battlemaster retorted, already reworking standard patrol units, scout training, and camp conduct in enemy territory - in addition to everything else he'd already picked up by listening to how the Ranger's worked.

**From time to time, he turned slowly through a complete circle, scanning the entire ground around them, moving slowly to conceal his own movement as imperceptible as possible.**

Baron Arald was listening as well, replanning defenses and drafting countermeasures against an enemy who used Ranger tactics.

**The keening of the Stones and the hissing of wind through the grass formed a constant background. But he began to hear other noises as well - the rustling of small animals in the grass, and other, less explicable, sounds. With each one, his heart raced a little faster, wondering if this might be the Kalkara, creeping in on the sleeping figures of his friends.**

Gilan grinned to himself. _Friend._

Halt made no indication he'd noticed the designation of _friend,_ but something told Will he'd noticed.

**Once, he was convinced that he could hear the breath of a heavy animal. Fear rose up in him, clutching at his throat, until he realized that, with his senses tuned to the utmost degree, he could actually hear his companions breathing quietly in their sleep.**

Halt scowled. "I am not that loud," he accused.

Will opened his mouth to defend himself, but Lady Pauline stepped in.

"Apparently, dear, you are."

Halt didn't reply to that.

**He knew that, from any more than five meters away, he would be virtually invisible to the human eye, thanks to the cloak, the shadows and the shape of the bush around him. But he wondered if the Kalkara depended on sight alone.**

"It's mostly smell, actually," Crowley contributed, one elbow resting on the table and his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

"Thank you, Crowley," Halt said dryly.

**Perhaps they had other sense that would tell them that there was an enemy concealed in the bush. Perhaps, even now, they were moving closer, concealed by the long shifting grass, ready to strike…**

**His nerves, already stretched beyond endurance by the Stone Flutes' dismal song, urged him to spin around and identify the source of each new sound as he heard it. But he knew that to do so would be to reveal himself. He forced himself to move slowly, turning carefully until he faced the direction from which he thought the sound had come, assessing each new risk before discarding it.**

Baron Arald and Sir Rodney were having a nearly-silent conversation concerning the reworking of the training of Redmont's scouts. Each fief had a small contingent of regular army scouts that was attached to the castle guard and Battleschool, but their training didn't vary much from the standard man-at-arm's - mostly because the men who trained them had been trained that way, as had the men who trained them, and so on and so forth. There were effective enough, but with all the new information the two were gaining from this book, they could be much better.

**In the long hours of tense watching, he saw nothing but the racing clouds, the fleeting moon and the undulating sea of grass that surrounded them. By the time the moon reached the preordained elevation, he was physically and mentally drained. He woke Gilan to take over the watch, then rolled back into his cloak again.**

**This time there were no dreams. Exhausted, he slept soundly until the gray light of dawn.**

Gilan shook his head. "I'm impressed," he said. "I didn't sleep at all."

"Good, next time you can take my watch," Will snarked in response.

**They saw the Stone Flutes by midmorning - a gray and surprisingly small circle of granite monoliths that stood at the top of a rise in the Plain. Their elected course took the riders a kilometer or so to one side of the Stones and Will was content to go no closer. The depressing song was now louder than ever, ebbing and flowing on the tide of the wind.**

**"Next flute player I meet," said Gilan with grim humor, "I'm going to split his lip for him."**

Jenny huffed. "See if I invite you to Redmont any time soon," she muttered. "One of my regulars is an excellent flute player."

Gilan made a pacifying motion with his hands. "I can make an exception for him."

**They rode on, the kilometers passing beneath their horses' hooves, hour after hour, one the same as the next, with nothing new to see and always with the faint howl of the Stones at their back, keeping their nerves on edge.**

**The Plainsman rose suddenly from the grass some fifty meters away from them. Small, dressed in gray rags and with long hair hanging unkempt to his shoulders, he glared at them through mad eyes for several seconds.**

**Will's heart had barely recovered from the shock of his sudden appearance when he was off, bent double and running through the grass, seeming to sink into it. Within seconds, he had disappeared, swallowed by the grass. Halt was about to urge Abelard in pursuit, but then he stopped. The arrow he had selected instantly and laid on the bowstring remained undrawn. Gilan was also ready to shoot, his reactions every bit as sharp as Halt's. He too held his shot, looking curiously at his senior.**

**Halt shrugged. "May mean nothing," he said. "Or maybe he's off to tell the Kalkara. But we can hardly kill him on suspicion."**

"Since when were you that generous?" Crowley demanded, ignoring the raised eyebrows of King Duncan before the ruler of Araluen decided he didn't want to know. He'd already had to exile the grizzled old Ranger once, after all.

**Gilan let out a short bark of laughter, more to release the tension he felt as a result of the man's unexpected appearance.**

**"I suppose there's no difference," he said, "whether we find the Kalkara of they find us."**

Halt snorted.

**Halt's eyes fixed on him for a moment, without any sign of answering humor.**

**"Believe me, Gilan," he said, "there's a big difference."**

Gilan winced.

**They had abandoned the forced march pace now and walked their horses slowly through the tall grass. Behind them, the sound of the Stones began to fade a little, much to Will's relief. Now, he realized, the wind was carrying it away from them.**

"Hallelujah," Will said.

**Some time passed following the sudden appearance of the Plain dweller, with no further sign of life. A question had been nagging at Will all through the afternoon.**

**"Halt?" he said experimentally, not sure if Halt would order him to silence. The Ranger looked at him, eyebrows raised in a sign that he was prepared to answer questions, so Will continued. "Why do you think Morgarath has enlisted the Kalkara? What does he stand to gain?"**

"Revenge," Gilan started. "Tactical advantage. Things like that." He and Will both glanced briefly at Halt, who's face was dark and unreadable. Crowley's face was unusually grim.

**Halt realized that Gilan was waiting for his answer as well. He marshaled his thoughts before he replied. He was a little reluctant to verbalize his thoughts, so much of the answer depended on guesswork and intuition.**

"Doesn't stop it from usually being right," Crowley pointed out, and Halt's head moved briefly as he glanced at his friend.

**"Who knows why Morgarath ever does anything?" he answered slowly. "I can't give you a definite answer. All I can tell you is what I assume and what Crowley thinks as well."**

**He glanced quickly at his two companions. It was obvious from their expectant expressions that they were prepared to accept his assumptions as ironclad fact. Sometimes, he thought wryly, a reputation for being right all the time could be a heavy burden.**

Will made a _'there you go'_ gesture.

**"There's a war coming," he went on. "That much is already obvious. The Wargals are on the move and we've heard that Morgarath has been in contact with Ragnak." He saw the puzzled expression flit across Will's face. Gilan, he knew, understood who Ragnak was.**

"Give it a year or two, I'll figure it out," Will said with grim humor. Halt leveled his apprentice with a look.

**"Ragnak is the Oberjarl, or supreme lord, if you like, of the Skandians - the sea wolves." He saw the quick flash of comprehension and went on.**

**"This is obviously going to be a bigger war than we've fought before and we're going to need all our resources - and our best commanders to lead us. I think that's what Morgarath has in mind. He's seeking to weaken us by having the Kalkara kill our leaders. Northolt, the supreme army commander, and Lorriac, our best cavalry commander, have gone already. Certainly there will be other men who will step into those positions but there will inevitably be some confusion in the changeover period, some loss of cohesion. I think that's what's behind Morgarath's plan."**

**Gilan said thoughtfully, "There's another aspect as well. Both those men were instrumental in his defeat last time. He's destroying our command structure and getting revenge at the same time."**

**Halt nodded. "That's true, of course. And to a twisted mind like Morgarath's revenge is a powerful motive."**

**"So you think there'll be more killings?" Will asked, and Halt met his gaze steadily.**

"Not if I have any say in the matter," Crowley muttered angrily, still incensed at the attempt on his friend's life.

"You didn't," Will reminded him.

**"I think there'll be more attempts. Morgarath has sent them out twice with targets and they've succeeded. I don't see any reason why they won't go after others. Morgarath has reason to hate a lot of people in the Kingdom. The King himself, perhaps. Or maybe Baron Arald - he caused Morgarath some grief in the last war."**

"That he did," Rodney agreed, grinning at his friend, who looked mildly satisfied with himself.

**And so did you, Will thought, with a sudden flash of fear for his teacher. He was about to voice the thought that Halt might be a target, then realized that Halt was probably well aware of the fact himself. Gilan was asking the older Ranger another question.**

**"One thing I don't understand. Why do the Kalkara keep returning to their hideout? Why not just move from one victim to the next?"**

**"I suppose that's one of the few advantages we do have," Halt told them. "They're savage and merciless and more intelligent than Wargals. But they're not human. They are totally single-minded. Show them a victim and they'll hunt him down and hill him or die themselves in the attempt. But they can only keep track of one victim at a time. Between killings, they'll return to their lair. Then Morgarath - or one of his underlings - will prime them for their next victim and they'll head out again. Our best hope is to intercept them on the way if they've been given a new target. Or kill them in their lair if they haven't."**

**Will looked for the thousandth time at the featureless grass plain that lay before them. Somewhere out there, the two fearsome creatures were waiting, perhaps with a new victim already in mind. Halt's voice interrupted his train of thought.**

**"Sun's going down," he said. "We may as well camp here."**

**They swung down stiffly from their saddles, easing the girths to make their horses more comfortable.**

**"That's one thing about this blasted place," Gilan said, looking around them. "One spot is as good as another to camp. Or as bad."**

**Will woke from a dreamless sleep to the touch of Halt's hand on his shoulder. He tossed back the cloak, glanced at the scudding moon overhead and frowned.**

_"Scudding,"_ Will grumbled.

**He couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour. He started to say so, but Halt stopped him, placing a finger to his lips for silence. Will looked around and realized Gilan was already awake, standing above him, his head turned to the northeast, back the way they had come, listening.**

**Will came to his feet, moving carefully to avoid making any undue noise. His hands had automatically gone to his weapons, but he relaxed as he realized there was no immediate threat. The other two were listing intently. Then Halt raised a hand and pointed to the north.**

**"There it is again," he said softly.**

**Then Will heard it, above the moaning of the Stone Flutes and the soughing of the wind through the grass, and the blood froze in his veins. It was a high-pitched, bestial howl that ululated**

_"Ululated?"_ Gilan echoed in disbelief. "Who wrote this, Nigel?"

"George, probably," Will contributed, and Horace nodded in agreement.

Lady Pauline made an uncertain humming noise. "I'm not certain that whoever wrote this used 'ululated' correctly, however."

**and climbed in pitch. An inhuman sound carried to them on the wind from the throat of a monster.**

**Seconds later, another howl answered the first. Slightly deeper in pitch, it seemed to come from a position a little to the left of the first. Without needing to be told, Will knew what the sounds meant.**

**"It's the Kalkara," Halt said grimly. "They have a new target and they're hunting."**

Horace's stomach rumbled.

"I think that's our cue for supper," Cassandra commented, rolling her eyes even as she smiled.

King Duncan nodded in agreement. "Indeed. We seem to have run later than planned - shall we continue in the morning?"

There was a chorus of assents from the others, some more reluctant than others.


	28. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyss reads Chapter Twenty-seven of Ruins of Gorlan. Ape-bear assassins ensue, and Jenny is unimpressed.

The group woke early the next morning. Horace, surprisingly, was the first awake, and if he looked a little paler than usual a good breakfast fixed him up to his normal, cheerful self.

They all settled in around the table, the Rangers (and Horace) with their mugs of coffee and Sir Rodney picking at an unfinished roll, as Alyss began the next chapter.

**The three companions spent a sleepless night as the hunting cries of the Kalkara dwindled to the north. When they first heard the sounds, Gilan had moved to saddle Blaze, the bay horse snorting nervously at the fearsome howling of the tow beasts. Halt, however, gestured for him to stop.**

Horace raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"If you want to go after those horrors in the dark," Halt told him, "be my guest."

**"I'm not going after those things in the dark," he said briefly. "We'll wait till first light, then look for their tracks."**

**The tracks were easy enough to find, as the Kalkara obviously made no attempt to conceal their passing. The long grass had been crushed by the two heavy bodies, leaving a clear trail pointing east-northeast.**

"Convenient," Crowley nodded.

"Maybe a little too convenient," Arald added thoughtfully.

"They are _ape-bear_ _assassins_ , of questionable intelligence." Jenny repeated. "The amount of subtlety they are capable of is limited."

Will snickered.

**Halt found the trail left by the first of the two monsters, then a few minutes later, Gilan found the second, about a quarter-kilometer to the left and traveling parallel - close enough to provide support in case of an attack, but distant enough to avoid any trap set for its brother.**

**Halt considered the situation for a few moments, then came to a decision.**

**"You stay with the second one," he told Gilan. "Will and I will follow this one. I want to make sure they both keep heading in the same direction. I don't want one of them doubling back to come behind us."**

Gilan shivered at the idea.

**"You think they know we're here?" Will asked, working hard to keep his voice sounding steady and disinterested.**

**"They could. There's been time for that Plainsman we saw to have warned them. Or maybe it's just coincidence and they're heading out on their next mission."**

"I thought you didn't believe in coincidences?" Crowley asked.

Halt glared at him. "This," he said precisely. "Is one of the reasons _why."_

**He glanced at the line of crushed grass, moving irrevocably in one constant direction. "They certainly seem to have a purpose." He turned to Gilan again. "In any event, keep your eyes peeled and pay close attention to Blaze. The horses will sense those beasts before we will. We don't want to run into an ambush."**

"Are you _trying_ to get kicked in the behind by fate?" Baron Arald demanded.

**Gilan nodded and swung Blaze away to return to the second trail. At a hand signal from Halt, the three Rangers began riding forward, following the direction the Kalkara had taken.**

**"I'll watch the trail," Halt told Will. "You keep an eye on Gilan, just in case."**

"I'm honored by your trust in me," Gilan deadpanned, then laughed when Halt rolled his eyes.

 **Will turned his attention to the tall Ranger, some two hundred meters away and keeping pace with them. Blaze was only visible from the shoulders up, her lower half masked by the long grass. From time to time, undulations in the intervening ground -** _"Undulations,"_ Will muttered, shaking his head **\- took both ride and horse out of sight, and the first time this happened, Will reacted with a cry of alarm as Gilan simply seemed to disappear into the ground. Halt turned quickly, an arrow already at half draw, but at that moment, Gilan and Blaze reappeared, seemingly unconscious of the moment of panic they'd caused.**

"Sorry," Gilan apologized sheepishly.

Halt merely shook his head. "You had no way of knowing, Gilan."

**"Sorry," Will muttered, annoyed that he'd allowed his nerves to get the better of him. Halt regarded him shrewdly.**

**"That's all right," he said steadily. "I'd rather you let me know any time you even think there's a problem." Halt knew only too well that, having called a false alarm once, Will might be reluctant to react next time - and that could be fatal for all of them.**

**"Tell me every time you lose sight of Gilan. And tell me again when he reappears." He said. Will nodded, understanding his teacher's reasoning.**

"I should hope so," Halt muttered. Only Crowley and Pauline could hear the fondness behind the words.

**And so they rode on, the keening cry of the Flutes swelling in their ears again as they approached the stone circle. This time, they would pass much closer, Will realized, as the Kalkara seemed to be heading straight for the site.**

"Lovely," Gilan sighed.

**As they rode, their passage was marked by intermittent reports from Will.**

**"He's gone…still gone…All right. I see him again." The dips and rises in the ground were virtually invisible under the waving cover of tall grass. In fact, Will was never sure whether it was Gilan passing through a depression or he and Halt. Often it was combination of both.**

**There was one time Gilan and Blaze sank from sight and didn't reappear within the customary few seconds.**

**"I can't see him…" Will reported. Then: "Still gone…still gone…no sign of him…" His voice began to rise in pitch as the tension grew within him. "No sign of them… _still_ no sign…"**

"Where _were_ you?" Jenny wondered, fingers clenching around Gilan's hand.

Gilan shook his head. "Just another change in the terrain, I'm afraid," he replied.

**Halt brought Abelard to a stop, his bow ready once again, his eyes searching the ground to their left as they waited for Gilan to reappear. He let go a piercing whistle, three ascending notes. There was a pause, then an answering whistle, this time the same three notes in descending order, came clearly to them.**

Sir Rodney made another note. Their scouts and soldiers used a similar method, but it was much less streamlined. The whistling notes still wouldn't be practical for a large force, especially in armor - too much noise. However, the scouts had a much greater need for an easier - and less conspicuous - method of communication. Hand signals were all well and good, but they limited distance and could draw the eye of enemy sentries.

**Will heaved a sigh of relief and just at that moment Gilan reappeared, large as life. He faced them and made a large gesture with both arms raised in an obvious question: _What's the problem?_**

"You, it seems," King Duncan said dryly.

"Not a new development, your majesty, I assure you," Gilan replied easily, grinning. The King chuckled, and Halt snorted.

"Truer words were never spoken," he muttered.

Crowley cackled.

**Halt made a negative gesture and they moved on.**

**As they approached the Stone Flutes, Halt became more and more watchful. The Kalkara that he and Will were trailing was heading straight toward the circle. He reined in Abelard and shaded his eyes, studying the dismal gray rocks intently, looking for movement or any sign that the Kalkara might be lying in wait to ambush them.**

A slight shiver ran through Halt's shoulders. Nobody noticed - or if they did, they pretended not to, save for Pauline, who took her husband's hand under the table.

**"It's the only decent cover for miles around," he said. "Let's not take the chance that the damn thing could be lurking in there waiting for us. We'll go a little carefully, I think."**

Crowley raised his eyebrows slightly. "A little?" he asked mildly.

Halt did not justify that with a response.

**He signaled for Gilan to join them and explained the situation.**

**Then they split up to form a wide perimeter around the stones, riding in slowly from three different directions, checking their horses for any possible sign of reaction as they came closer. But the site was empty, although close-up, the jangling moan of the wind through the flute holes was close to unbearable.**

Halt muttered something about flute players and split lips.

Jenny sighed. _And I wondered where Gilan gets it from._

**Halt chewed his lip reflectively, staring out across the sea of grass at the two undeviating trails left by the Kalkara.**

"Is undeviating -"

"It's a word," Alyss confirmed, before Lady Pauline could answer. "It's unusual, certainly not commonly used, but with the prefix _un-_ added to the root word _deviate_ and suffix _-ing_ , it meets all the requirements of a word and conveys the correct meaning."

Horace settled back into his chair, with Cassandra stifling a giggle.

**"This is taking us too long," he said finally. "As long as we can see their trails for a couple hundred meters ahead, we'll move faster. Slow down when you come to rise or any time when the trail isn't visible for more than fifty meters."**

**Gilan nodded his understanding and resumed his wide position. They urged their horses on now in a canter, the easy lope of the Ranger horse that would eat the kilometers ahead of them.**

Now Rodney was taking mental notes for Ulf, the Horsemaster in Redmont, as well.

**Will maintained his watch on Gilan and whenever the visible trail diminished, either Halt or Gilan would whistle and they would slow to a walk until the ground opened up again before them.**

**As night fell, they camped once again. Halt still refused to follow the two killers in the dark, even though the moon meant their trail was easily visible.**

**"To easy for them to double back in the dark," he said. "I want plenty of warning when they finally come at us."**

Halt's explosive snort told the entire table how well _that_ had worked.

**"You think they will?" asked Will, noticing that Halt had said when, not if. The Ranger smiled reassuringly at his young pupil.**

"You can _smile?"_ Crowley asked, comically thunderstruck. "And here I thought you suffered from a rare condition that left you incapable of doing anything but scowling!"

Halt scowled in response - then kicked him under the table, leaving the Ranger Commandant rubbing his shine and whining quietly.

 **"Always assume an enemy knows you're there and that he will attack you." "That way, you tend to avoid unpleasant surprises." He smiled grimly** \- "You're doing it _again_ ," Crowley said, and was promptly kicked again - **at the boy. "It can still be unpleasant, but at least it's not a surprise."**

"Much better, of course," Will said dryly - even though it really _was_ , and everyone at the table knew it.

**In the morning, they resumed the trail once more, moving at the same brisk pace, slowing only when they had no clear sight of the lie of the land ahead of them. By early afternoon, they had reached the edge of the Plain and rode once again into the wooded country to the north of the Mountains of Rain and Night.**

**Here, they found, the two Kalkara had joined company, no longer keeping the wide separation they had maintained on the open ground of the Plain. But their chosen path remained the same, east of northeast. The three Rangers followed this course for another hour before Halt reined in Abelard and signaled the others to dismount for a conference. They grouped around a map of the kingdom that he unrolled out on the grass, using arrows as weights to stop the edges from rerolling.**

"Wouldn't rocks have been better?" Jenny asked. "So you wouldn't be short on arrows if you're attacked?"

"If you find any rocks on the Solitary Plain, do let me know," Halt retorted sarcastically.

**"Judging from their tracks, we've made up some time on them," he said. "But they're still a good half day ahead of us. Now, this is the direction they're following…"**

**He took another arrow and laid it on the map, orientating it so that it pointed to the direction the Kalkara had been following for the past two days and nights.**

**"As you can see, if they keep going in this direction, there are only two places of any significance that they could be heading for." He pointed to a place on the map. "Here - the Gorlan Ruins. Or farther north, Castle Araluen itself."**

Cassandra glanced at her father, who's face could have been carved in stone.

**Gilan drew in breath sharply. "Castle Araluen?" he said. "You don't think they'd dare try for King Duncan?"**

Cassandra's angry snarl suggested one reason the Kalkara might not dare.

**Halt looked at him and shook his head. "I simply don't know," he replied. "We don't know nearly enough about these beasts and half of that we think we know is probably myth and legend. But you've got to admit, it would be a bold stroke - a masterstroke - and Morgarath has never been averse to that sort of thing."**

"He's also a showman," Crowley muttered. "Something like that - well, it'd certainly make a statement."

Cassandra made a few statements of her own on the subject.

**He let the others digest the thought for a few moments, then traced a line from their current position to the northwest. "Now, I've been thinking. Look, here's Castle Redmont. Perhaps a day's ride away - and then another day to here."**

**From Redmont, he traced a line northeast, to the Gorlan Ruins marked on the map.**

**"One person, riding hard, and using two horses, could make it in less than a day to Redmont, and then lead the Baron and Sir Rodney here, to the Ruins. If the Kalkara keep moving at the pace they are, we might just be able to intercept them there. It'll be close, but it's possible. And with two warriors like, Arald and Rodney on hand, we'll stand a far better chance of stopping the damn things once and for all."**

**"One moment Halt," Gilan interrupted. "You said one person, riding two horses?"**

"How does that work, exactly?" Sir Rodney wondered, leaning forward. "I know it has something to do with distributing effort, but I've never quite understood it."

"It works best with lightly armored or unarmored horses," Crowley told him. "With the rider switching between multiple mounts, each horse has an opportunity to rest a little, without all that weight on their backs. They can run for longer as a result."

Rodney nodded, curiosity satisfied.

**Halt met Gilan's gaze with his own. He could see that the young Ranger had already divined what he had in mind.**

**"That's right, Gilan," he said. "And the lightest one among us will travel fastest. I want you to turn Blaze over to Will. If he alternates between Tug and your horse, he can do it in the time."**

**He saw the reluctance on Gilan's face and understood it perfectly.**

"It's almost like you don't trust me," Will teased lightly. Gilan made a face, but understood it was all in good faith - Will knew as well as any Ranger the reluctance that came with handing over your horse to someone else.

**No Ranger would like the idea of handing his horse over to someone else - even another Ranger. But at the same time Gilan understood the logic behind the suggestion. Halt waited for the younger man to break the silence, while Will watched the two of them, eyes wide with alarm at the thought of the responsibility that was about to be loaded onto him.**

"As I recall, you did just fine," Baron Arald interjected.

"Better than fine," Halt said shortly. Will blinked in surprise as a grin spread over his face, and nobody contradicted Halt's statement.

**Finally, reluctantly, Gilan broke the silence.**

**"I suppose it makes sense," he said. "So what do you want me to do?"**

**"Follow behind me on foot," Halt said briskly, rolling the chart up and replacing it in his saddlebag. "If you can get hold of a horse anywhere, do so and catch up with me. Otherwise, we'll rendezvous at Gorlan. If we miss the Kalkara there, Will can wait for you - with Blaze. I'll keep following the Kalkara until you all catch up with me."**

**Gilan nodded his acquiescence and Halt felt a surge of fondness for him as he did.**

Gilan beamed happily.

**Once Gilan saw the sense of his proposal, he wasn't the kind to raise arguments or objections. He did say, rather ruefully:**

**"I thought you said my sword might come in handy?"**

"Do you _want_ to fight those two horrors on your own?" Sir Rodney asked, flabbergasted.

Gilan shook his head emphatically. _"No,_ thank you."

**"I did," replied Halt, "but this gives me a chance to bring in two fully armored knights, with axes and lances. And you know that's the best way to fight the Kalkara."**

**"True," said Gilan, then, taking Blaze's bridle, he knotted the reins together and threw them over the bay's neck. "You may as well start out on Tug," he said to Will. "That'll give Blaze a chance to rest. She'll follow behind you without a lead rein and so will Tug when you're ridding Blaze. Tie the reins up like this on Tug's neck so they don't dangle down and snag anything."**

**He began to turn back to Halt, then remembered something.**

**"Oh yes, before you mount her the first time, remember to say -"** Alyss coughed politely at this point. Gilan shot her a grateful look.

**"Not to me. To the horse."**

Horace rolled his eyes.

**It was an old Ranger joke and they all smiled. Then Halt brought them back to the business at hand.**

**"Will? You're confident you can find your way to Redmont?"**

"I _think_ I recall the place," Will said with a grin. "Some dusty old rockpile in the middle of nowhere, right?"

Baron Arald pretended to be offended. It was a great source of amusement for all.

**Will nodded. He touched the pocket where he kept his own copy of the chart, and glanced at the sun for direction.**

**"Northwest," he said tightly, indicating the direction he had chosen. Halt nodded, satisfied.**

**"You'll strike the Salmon River before dusk, that will give you a good reference point. And the main highway is just a little way west of the river. Keep to a steady canter all the way. Don't try to race the horses - you'll just tire them out that way and you'll be slower in the long run."**

Rodney found himself nodding in agreement. That was one piece of strategy that his knights already used.

**"Travel safely now."**

**Halt swung up into Abelard's saddle and Will mounted Tug.**

**Gilan pointed to Will and spoke in Blaze's ear.**

**"Follow, Blaze, Follow." The bay horse, intelligent as all Ranger horses were, tossed its head as if in acknowledgment of the order. Before they parted, Will had one more question that had been bothering him.**

**"Halt," he said, "the Gorlan Ruins…what exactly are they?"**

"The ruins of Gorlan," Halt deadpanned.

Alyss looked at the cover of the book (which read 'Ruins of Gorlan' in large letters) with exaggerated surprise.

**"It's ironic, isn't it?" Halt replied. "They're the ruins of Castle Gorlan, Morgarath's former fiefdom."**

"Used to be quite the place, back in the day," Arald said, slightly wistfully.

Rodney smiled and nudged his friend. "Defending champion..."

"Oh, shut up."

"So, there used to be fifty-one fiefs?" Jenny asked, looking confused. "I thought there were always fifty."

King Duncan shook his head. "You're quite correct. The capital of Gorlan Fief was relocated to one of the smaller castles - Baron Halverd is in charge there now. Castle Gorlan itself, however, remains in ruins - nobody wants to go near the place long enough to rebuild it, or even clear the stone away."

"Bit of a surprise," Sir Rodney mused, "considering how much stone is worth lately."

"Stone damaged in a castle siege," Horace pointed out.

Sir Rodney conceded the point. "True, lad. But that doesn't mean it couldn't be used for housing foundation or roads."

The discussion continued in this vein for some time, with most everyone offering a view - except Will and Jenny, who looked confused, and Halt, who looked as grumpy as ever.


	29. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Rodney reads Chapter 28 of Ruins of Gorlan. Emotions ensue.

Alyss passed the book to Sir Rodney, who re-opened the volume to the appropriate page and began reading.

**The ride to castle Redmont soon settled into a blur of weariness. The two horses maintained the steady lope for which they had been bred. The temptation, of course, was to urge Tug into a wild gallop, with Blaze following behind. But Will knew that such a course would be self-defeating. He was moving at the horses' best speed. As Old Bob, the horse trainer, had told him, Ranger horses could maintain a canter all day without tiring.**

Will grinned fondly at the thought of his little gray horse. Across the table, Gilan had a similar smile on his face.

Jenny and Alyss exchanged knowing looks.

**It was a different matter for the rider. Added to the physical effort of moving constantly to the rhythm of whichever horse he was riding - and the two had distinctly different gaits, due to their difference in size - was the equally debilitating mental strain.**

**What if Halt was wrong? What if the Kalkara had suddenly veered to the west and were heading now on a course that would intercept his?**

"It's good to know you have such faith in me, Will," Halt said lightly, in an attempt to break the tension.

Will grimaced. "Sorry Halt," he replied sheepishly.

**What if he made some terrible mistake and failed to reach Redmont in time?**

**That last fear, the fear of self-doubt, was the hardest one of all to deal with.**

"Always is," Baron Arald said quietly.

**In spite of the hard training he had undergone over the past months, he was little more than a boy.**

"Thanks, book," Will muttered.

"You were fifteen, dear," Alyss reminded him gently.

Will waved a hand. "Details, details," he said airily.

**What was more, he had always had Halt's judgment and experience to rely on in the past. Now he was alone - and he knew how much depended on his ability to carry out the task he had been set.**

**The thoughts, the, doubts, the fears crowded his tired mind, tumbling over each other, jostling for position. The Salmon River came and went beneath the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves. He paused to water the horses briefly at the bridge, then, once on the King's Highway, he made excellent time, with only short halts at regular intervals to change his mount.**

**The day's shadows lengthened and the trees overhanging the road grew dark and menacing. Each noise from the darkening trees, each vaguely seen movement in the shadows, brought his heart to his mouth with a lurch.**

**Here, an owl hooted and stopped to fasten its claws around an unwary mouse. There, a badger prowled, hunting its prey like a gray shadow in the undergrowth of the forest. With each movement and noise, Will's imagination worked overtime. He began to see great black figures - much as he imagined a Kalkara would look -**

"Ape-bear assassins," Jenny muttered.

**\- in every patch of shadow, in every dark clump of bushes that stirred with the light breeze. Reason told him that there was almost no chance that the Kalkara would be seeking him out. Imagination and fear replied that they were abroad somewhere - and who was to say they weren't close by?**

**Imagination and fear won.**

"That's how Malcolm operated, wasn't it?" Horace noted, looking to Will, who nodded.

"Do you remember Serthrek'nish?" he asked. "The Scotti demon," he clarified, when Horace looked confused. The tall man nodded and grinned.

"Do I ever. And the skull?"

Will nodded, grinning.

"Don't forget the Night Warrior," Alyss put in, and Will flushed. Horace snickered quietly.

**And so the long, fear-filled night passed, until the low light of dawn found a weary figure hunched in the saddle of a sturdy, barrel-chested horse that drove steadily onwards to the northwest.**

**Dozing in the saddle, Will snapped awake with a start, feeling the first warmth of the sun's rays upon him. Gently, he reined Tug in and the little horse stood, head down, sides heaving. Will realized he had been riding far longer than he should have been, his fear having driven him to keep Tug running through the darkness, long after he should have rested him.**

"You're lucky Old Bob isn't here," Crowley said mildly, his head propped on one elbow. "He would have taken your ear off for that."

Will winced.

**He dismounted stiffly, aching in every joint, and paused to rub the horse's soft nose affectionately.**

**"Sorry, boy," he said. Tug, reacting to the touch and the voice that he now knew so well, tossed his head and shook his shaggy mane. If Will had asked it, he would have continued uncomplaining until he dropped.**

Will smiled fondly.

**Will looked around. The cheerful light of early morning had dispelled all the dark fears of the night before. Now, he felt slightly foolish as he remembered those moments of choking panic. Stiffly, he dismounted,**

"Again?" Gilan questioned. Will shrugged helplessly.

**then loosened the girth straps on the saddle. He gave his horse ten minutes' respite, until Tug's breathing seemed to settle and his sides ceased heaving. Then, marveling at the recuperative powers and endurance of the Ranger horse breed,**

Crowley grinned. As Ranger Commandant, the praise of anything Ranger-related send a little glow of pride through him - even if it had nothing to do with them. They were _his_ Rangers, after all.

**he tightened the girths on Blaze's saddle and swung astride the bay, groaning softly as he did so. Ranger horses might recover quickly. Ranger apprentices took a little longer.**

"Even Ranger apprentices trained by Halt," Gilan put in, looking pointedly at his former master.

"You got used to it," Halt said, unrepentant.

**It was late morning when Castle Redmont finally came in sight.**

**Will was ridding Tug again, the small horse seemingly none the worse for the hard night he'd put in, as they crested the last row of hills and the green valley of Arald's barony stretched out before them.**

**Exhausted, Will stopped for a few seconds, leaning tiredly on the pommel. They'd come so far, so quickly. He looked with relief on the familiar sight of the castle - and the tidy little village that nestled contentedly in its shadow. Smoke was rising from chimneys. Farmers were walking slowly home from their fields for their midday meal. The castle itself stood solid and reassuring in its bulk at the crest of the hill.**

**"It all looks so…normal," Will said to his horse.**

"Why wouldn't it? We hadn't gotten word of anything amiss yet," Rodney pointed out - more gently than he might have with, say, a new guard.

**Somehow, he realized, he had been expecting to find things changed. The kingdom was about to go to war again for the first time in fifteen years, but here, life went on as normal.**

Halt coughed something that sounded vaguely like "wasting time".

**Then, realizing he was wasting time, he urged Tug forward until he was stretched out in a gallop, both boy and horse eager to finish this final leg of their journey.**

Will sent Halt a pointed look.

 _I taught him well,_ Halt reflected, a bit of a dry note present even in his own thoughts - because Halt was physically incapable of having a single, completely sincere thoughts. There always had to be something else included.

**People looked up in surprise at the rapid passing of the small, green and gray clad figure, hunched low over the neck of his dusty horse, with a larger, bay horse following behind. One or two of the villagers recognized Will and called a greeting.**

"So much for scary, aloof Ranger," Crowley teased lightly. Halt rolled his eyes.

**But their words were lost in the rattle of hooves.**

**The rattle turned to an echoing drumming as they swept across the lowered drawbridge into the foreyard of the castle itself. Then the drumming became an urgent clattering on the cobblestones of the yard. Will drew back lightly on the reins and Tug slid to a halt by the entrance to Baron Arald's tower.**

**The two men-at-arms on duty there, surprised by his sudden appearance and breakneck pace, steeped forward and barred his path with their crossed pikes.**

Rodney muttered something about the intelligence of young guardsmen.

**"Just a moment, you!" said one of them, a corporal. "Where do you think you're off to in such a clatter and a rush?"**

"At least they're paying attention," King Duncan put in mildly.

"If they were _paying attention,"_ Sir Rodney said sarcastically, "they wouldn't have stopped him in the first place - er, your majesty," he added apologetically, remembering who he was speaking to.

King Duncan waved it off and gestured for the knight to continue reading.

**Will opened his mouth to reply, but before words could form, an angry voice boomed from behind him.**

**"What the hell do you think you're doing, you idiot? Don't you recognize a King's Ranger when you see one?"**

**It was Sir Rodney, striding across the courtyard on his way to see the Baron. The two sentries stiffened to attention as Will turned, gratefully, to the Battlemaster.**

**"Sir Rodney," he said, "I have an urgent message from Halt for Lord Arald and yourself."**

**As Halt had observed to Will after the boar hunt, the Battlemaster was a shrewd man.**

"High praise, from someone who considers knights to be incompetent, bumbling, fools," Gilan said dryly, having been subjected to many such a tirade during his apprenticeship.

Horace made an injured noise in his throat, and Halt made a calming gesture in the young man's direction.

"Not you, Horace," he said reassuringly.

(Sir Rodney's scowl eased somewhat at that.)

**He took in Will's disheveled clothing, the two dusty horses, standing, heads dropping tiredly, and realized this was no time for a lot of foolish questions.**

Halt looked meaningfully at Will.

Will merely grinned.

**He jerked a thumb at the doorway.**

**"Best come in and tell us then." He turned to the sentries.**

**"Have these horses looked after. Feed and water them."**

**"Not too much of either, please, Sir Rodney," Will said quickly. "Just a small amount of grain and water, and maybe you could have them rubbed down. I'll be needing them again soon."**

Halt grumbled something about damn fool apprentices. Nobody bothered to respond.

**Rodney's eyebrows rose at that. Will and the horses both looked as if they could use a long rest.**

**"Something must be urgent," he said, adding to the corporal, "See to the horses then. And have food brought to Baron Arald's study - and a jug of cold milk."**

Will sighed in relief. "Saved my life, that food."

"Small price to pay, I think," Rodney said quietly, a slight smile crossing his face. Once a father, always a father.

**The two knights whistled in astonishment as Will told them the news. Word had already come that Morgarath was mustering his army, and the Baron had sent out messengers to assemble his own troops - both knights and men-at-arms. But the news of the Kalkara was something else entirely. No hint of that had reached Castle Redmont.**

**"You say Halt thinks they may be going after the King?" Baron Arald asked as Will finished speaking. Will nodded, then hesitated before he added:**

**"Yes my lord. But I think there's another possibility."**

**He was loath to go further, but the Baron gestured for him to continue and he finally gave voice to the suspicion that had been building inside him through the long night and day.**

**"Sir…I think maybe there's a chance that they're after Halt himself."**

"Why is it always me?" Halt complained.

"Take it as a compliment," Duncan said, completely used to death threats (and assassination attempts). "It means you're doing something right."

"Or very, very wrong," Baron Arald supplied.

King Duncan shrugged. "I've only exiled him once," he pointed out mildly.

Crowley snorted.

**Once the suspicion was voiced, and the fear was out in the open to be examined and evaluated, he felt the better for it. Somewhat to his surprise, Baron Arald didn't dismiss the idea.**

Baron Arald turned to face Will more fully. "Why did you think I'd do that?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Will shifted uneasily. "I don't...I mean, I was just an apprentice, I'd barely started my training -"

"Will," Arald said gently. "I will never dismiss a threat to my fief or its people just because of who relays it to me."

King Duncan nodded. "A wise policy," he said. _In a different life, Baron Arald would have made a fine king,_ he reflected.

**He stroked his beard thoughtfully as he digested the words.**

**"Go on," he said, wanting to hear Will's reasoning.**

**"It's just that, halt felt Morgarath might be looking for revenge - looking to punish those who fought him last time. And I thought, probably Halt did him the most harm of all, didn't he?"**

"Well done, you gray-cloaked meddler you!" Crowley said cheerfully.

Halt rolled his eyes.

**"That's true enough," said Rodney.**

**"And I thought, maybe the Kalkara knew we were following them - the Plainsman had plenty of time to find them and tell them. And maybe they were leading Halt on, until they found a place for an ambush. So while he thinks he's hunting them, he's actually the one being hunted."**

**"And the Gorlan Ruins would be an ideal place for it," Arald agreed. "In that tumble of rocks, they could be on him before he had a chance to use that longbow of his. Well, Rodney, there's no time to waste. You and I will go. Half armor, I think. We'll move faster that way. Lances, axes, and broadswords. And we'll take two horses each - we'll follow Will's example there. We'll leave in an hour. Have Karel gather another ten knights and follow us as soon as he can."**

"You should have waited," Halt muttered. "Two knights -"

"If we hadn't, you would likely be dead," Baron Arald interrupted flatly. "I wasn't going to take that chance, Halt."

The grizzled old Ranger subsided with a grumble. _Everyone seems to be very sentimental all of a sudden._

**"Yes, my lord," the Battlemaster replied.**

"You used to be so polite," Baron Arald muttered.

"Only when there were impressionable younglings around," Sir Rodney replied easily, a wide grin splitting his face.

**Baron Arald turned back to Will.**

**"You've done a good job, Will. We'll take care of this now. As for you, you look as if you could use eight hours' solid sleep."**

**Wearily, aching in every muscle and joint, Will drew himself upright.**

**"I'd like to come with you, my lord," he said.**

Crowley muttered something about Halt, apprentices, stubbornness, and "rubbing off".

Halt certainly did _not_ kick him under the table, no, that would be undignified.

**He sensed that the Baron was about to disagree and added hurriedly, "Sir, none of us knows what is going to happen, and Gilan is out there somewhere on foot. Besides…" he hesitated.**

**"Go on, Will," the Baron said quietly and, when the boy looked up, Arald saw the steel in his eyes.**

**"Halt is my master, sir, and he's in danger. My place is with him," Will said.**

Halt focused on the table to hide the sudden brightening of his eyes.

**The Baron assessed him shrewdly, then came to a decision.**

**"Very well. But at least you can get an hour's rest. There's a cot in that annex over there." He indicated a curtained-off section of the study. "Why don't you use it?"**

Halt caught Rodney's eye from where he was sitting and nodded discreetly. Rodney returned the gesture, and most of the table was unaware that anything had transpired.

**"Yes, sir," said Will gratefully. His eyes felt as if he'd had handfuls of sand rubbed into them.**

"Give it a few years, you'll find out what it's really like," Gilan joked, referring to their travels in Arridia. Will snorted.

**He had never been happier to obey an order in his life.**


	30. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Duncan reads Chapter 29 of Ruins of Gorlan. Crowley doesn't take it well.

Sir Rodney passed the book to King Duncan, who briefly nodded his thanks and began to read.

**Throughout that long afternoon, Will felt as if he had lived his entire life in the saddle, his only respite being the hourly changes from one horse to another.**

"God help us all, he's channeling the Temujai," Halt said dryly.

Gilan snorted.

**A brief pause to dismount, loosen the girth straps of the horse he had been riding, tighten those on the horse which had been following, then he would remount and ride on. Again and again, he marveled at the amazing endurance shown by Tug and Blaze as they maintained their steady canter. He even had to rein them in a little, to keep pace with the battlehorses ridden by the two knights.**

The knights at the table (except Horace, who was used to it) grumbled good-naturedly.

**Big, powerful and trained for war as they might be, they couldn't match the constant pace of the Ranger horses, in spite of the fact that they were fresh when the small party had left Castle Redmont.**

**They rode without speaking. There was no time for idle talk and, even if there had been, it would have been difficult to hear one another above the drumming thunder of the four heavy battlehorses, and the lighter rattle of Tug and Blaze's hooves and the constant clank of equipment and weapons that accompanied them as they rode.**

"Well no wonder they tired so quickly, carrying a pair of metal mountains such as yourselves," Crowley teased cheerfully, chuckling at the groan issuing from Sir Rodney as the Baron shook his head.

**Both men carried long war lances -hard ash poles more than three meters in length, tipped with a heavy iron point. In addition, each had a broadsword strapped to their saddles-huge, two-handed weapons that dwarfed the swords they normally wore in day-to-day use - and Rodney had a heavy battleax slung at the rear right pommel of his saddle.**

"You'd do Farrel proud," Halt put in. Crowley smiled ruefully at the memory of the axe-wielding Ranger. Rodney grinned.

**It was the lances on which they would place greatest trust, however. They would keep the Kalkara at a distance, and so reduce the chance that the knights might be frozen by the terrifying stare of the two beasts. Apparently, the hypnotic gaze was only effective at close quarters. If a man couldn't see the eyes clearly, there was little chance of their paralyzing him with their gaze.**

"Logical," Alyss agreed.

**The sun was dropping fast behind them, throwing their shadows out before them, long and distorted by the low angle light. Arald glanced over his shoulder at the sun's position and called to Will.**

**"How long before dusk, Will?"**

**Will turned in his saddle and frowned at the descending ball of light before answering. "Less than an hour, my lord."**

**The Baron shook his head doubtfully. "It'll be a close run to get there before full dark then," he said. He urged his battlehorse onward, increasing speed a little. Tug and Blaze matched the increase without effort. None of them wanted to be hunting the Kalkara in the dark.**

"Trust me, the light's bad enough," Halt muttered irritably. Lady Pauline leaned briefly into her husband's side, and he looked at her in surprise.

**The hour's rest at the castle had done wonders for Will. But it seemed that it had happened in another lifetime now. He thought over the cursory briefing that Arald had given as they mounted to leave Redmont. If they found the Kalkara at the Gorlan Ruins, Will was to hold back while the Baron and Sir Rodney charged the two monsters. There were no complex tactics involved, just a headlong charge that might take the two killers by surprise.**

Gilan amused himself briefly by imagining Hal's face at the thought of having such a plan against such an enemy. Granted, if someone were to suggest a plan, the half-Araluen skirl's reaction would likely involve a great deal of shouting at said person, with potentially some sword-brandishing thrown in because _one does not simply endanger Hal's crew._ Or his ship, for that matter.

**"If Halt's there, I'm sure he'll take a hand too. But I want you well back out of harm's way, Will. That bow of yours won't make any impression on a Kalkara."**

"It will if I set it on fire," Will said, straight-faced. Baron Arald conceded the point.

**"Yes, sir," Will had said. He had no intention of getting close to the Kalkara. He was more than content to leave things to the two knights, protected by their shields, helmets and half armor of chain mail shirts and leggings. However, Arald's next words quickly dispelled any overconfidence he might have had in their ability to deal with the beasts.**

Sir Rodney snorted at that. "You young, naive soul," he said dryly.

"They're dead, aren't they?" Will challenged.

"Very true," King Duncan put in, tone deliberately light.

**"If the damn things get the better of us, I'll want you to ride for more help. Karel and the others will be somewhere behind us. Find them, then go after the Kalkara with them. Track those beasts down and kill them."**

**Will said nothing to that. The fact that Arald even contemplated failure, when he and Rodney were the two foremost knights within a two hundred kilometer radius,**

"I wouldn't say that," Baron Arald muttered.

"Speak for yourself," Sir Rodney said in an undertone, so only his friend heard him.

Baron Arald stomped on his Battlemaster's foot under the table.

**spoke volumes of his concern about the Kalkara. For the first time, Will realized that in this contest, the odds were heavily against them.**

Halt turned his head to face his apprentice. "Really now," he said, voice heavy with sarcasm. "Just getting that, are we?"

Will flushed.

**The sun was trembling on the brink of the world, the shadows at their longest, and they still had several kilometers to go. Baron Arald raised a hand and brought the party to a stop. He glanced at Rodney and jerked a thumb at the bundle of pitch-soaked torches each man carried behind his saddle.**

**"Torches, Rodney," he said briefly. The Battlemaster demurred for a moment.**

**"Are you sure, my lord? They'll give away our position if the Kalkara are watching."**

"They'll hear you first. Or smell you," Halt pointed out.

**Arald shrugged. "They'll hear us coming anyway. And among the trees, we'll move too slowly without the light. Let's take the chance."**

**He was already striking his flint and steel together, igniting a spark that set his small pile of tinder smoking, then flaring into flame. He held the torch in the flame and the thick, sticky pine pitch with which it was impregnated suddenly caught and burst into yellow flame. Rodney leaned toward him with another torch and lit it in the Baron's flame. Then, holding the torches high, their lances held in place by leather thongs looped around their right wrists, they resumed their gallop, thundering into the darkness beneath the trees as they finally left the broad road they had been following since noon.**

**It was another ten minutes before they heard the screaming.**

"Tell me it wasn't yours," Crowley muttered desperately to Halt.

"It wasn't mine," Halt repeated.

Crowley nodded. "Good. Now say that without lying."

"I wasn't screaming, Crowley."

Crowley relaxed minutely.

**It was an unearthly sound that twisted the stomach into knots of fear and turned the blood cold. Involuntarily, the Baron and Sir Rodney reined in as they heard it. Their horses plunged wildly against the reins. It came from straight ahead of them and rose and fell, until the night air quaked with the horror of it.**

**"Good God in heaven!" the Baron exclaimed. "What is that?"**

"The Kalkara,"

**His face was ashen as the hellish sound soared through the night toward them, to be answered immediately by another, identical howl.**

**But Will had heard the terrible noise before. He felt the blood leave his face now as he realized his fears were being proven correct.**

**"It's the Kalkara," he said. "They're hunting."**

Halt could have been carved from stone, for all he moved, but his eyes were blank and far away. Lady Pauline extricated her fingers before her husband inadvertently snapped them like twigs.

Crowley took a breath. "Halt -" he started.

"Just keep reading," Halt snapped.

**And he knew there was only one person out there that they could be after. They had turned back and were hunting Halt.**

**"Look, my lord!" Rodney said, pointing to the rapidly darkening night sky. Through a break in the tree cover, they saw it, a sudden flare of light reflecting in the sky, evidence of a fire in the near distance.**

**"That's Halt!" the Baron said. "Bound to be. And he'll need help!"**

"Not that he'll ever admit it," Crowley groused, half-glaring at his old friend.

Halt merely shrugged.

**He rammed his spurs into the tired battlehorse's flanks, urging the beast forward into a lumbering gallop, the torch in his hand screaming flame and sparks behind him as Sir Rodney and Will galloped in his tracks.**

"Quite a picture that paints," Alyss said quietly.

Jenny nodded. "Sounds like something George would write," she said fondly, and the two young women shared smiles.

**It was an eerie sensation, following those flaming, spitting torches through the trees, their elongated tongues of flame blowing back behind the two riders, casting weird and terrifying shadows among the trees, while ahead of them, the glow of the large fire, presumably lit by Halt, grew stronger and nearer with each stride.**

**They broke out of the trees with virtually no warning, and before them was a scene from nightmares.**

Crowley made a slight, strained noise in his throat. King Duncan was perfectly composed, save for the whitening of his knuckles on the arms of his chair.

Horace, however, was a very straightforward young man. He saw Halt sitting at the table, unhurt and unmaimed by the Kalkara, and drew the obvious conclusion that he had escaped from the Kalkara relatively unscathed.

**There was a short space of open grass, then the ground beyond was a litter of tumbled rocks and boulders. Giant pieces of masonry, still held together by mortar, lay scattered on their sides and edges, sometimes half buried in the soft grassy earth. The ruined walls of Castle Gorlan surrounded the scene on three sides, nowhere rising to more than five meters in height, destroyed and cast down by a vengeful kingdom after Morgarath had been driven out of his keep and back into the Mountains of Rain and Night. The resulting chaos of rocks and sections of tumbled wall was like the playground of a giant child - scattered in all directions, piled carelessly on top of one another, leaving virtually no clear ground at all.**

"Wonderful terrain for the horses," Baron Arald put in sarcastically.

Will snickered.

**The whole scene was illuminated by the leaping, twisting flames of a bonfire some forty meters in front of them. And beside it, a horrific figure crouched, screaming hatred and fury, plucking uselessly at the mortal wound in its chest that had finally brought it down.**

**Over two and a half meters tall, with shaggy, matted, scale-like hair covering its entire body, the Kalkara had long, talon-clad arms that reached to beneath its knees. Relatively short, powerful hind legs gave it the ability to cover the ground at a deceptive speed in a series of leaps and bounds. All of this the three riders took in as they emerged from the trees. But what they noticed most was the face-savage and apelike, with huge, yellowed canine teeth and red, glowing eyes filled with hatred and the blind desire to kill. The face turned toward them now and the beast screamed a challenge, tried to rise, and stumbled back into a half crouch again.**

**"What's wrong with it?" Rodney asked, reining in his horse. Will pointed to the cluster of arrows that protruded from its chest. There must have been eight of them, all placed within a hand's breadth of each other.**

Crowley's face split into a grin as he looked across to Halt, who inclined his head in confirmation.

Lady Pauline smiled proudly.

**"Look!" he cried. "Look at the arrows!"**

**Halt, with his uncanny ability to aim and fire in a blur of movement, must have sent a volley of arrows, one after the other, to smash into the armorlike matted hair, each one widening a gap in the monster's defenses until the final arrow had penetrated deep into the flesh. Its black blood ran in sheets down its torso and again it screamed its hatred at them.**

**"Rodney!" yelled Baron Arald. "With me! Now!"**

**Dropping the lead rein to his spare horse, he tossed the flaming torch to one side, couched his lance and charged. Rodney was a half second behind him, the two battlehorses thundering across the open space. The Kalkara, its lifeblood saturating the ground at its feet, rose to meet them, in time to take the two lance points, one after the other, in the chest.**

Gilan, Horace, Cassandra, and Jenny cheered.

"There's still one more," Sir Rodney reminded them, and the four sobered up instantly, but there was still a certain gleam in Cassandra's eyes.

**It was all but dead. Even so, the weight and strength of the monster checked the onward rush of the battlehorses. They reared back on their haunches as both knights leaned forward in the stirrups to drive the lance pints home. The sharp iron penetrated, smashing through the matted hair. The force of the charge drove the Kalkara from its feet and hurled it backward, into the flames of the fire behind it.**

**For an instant nothing happened. Then there was a blinding flash, and a pillar of red flame that reached ten meters into the night sky. And quite simply, the Kalkara disappeared.**

"So that's how you did it," Halt mused.

"If only accidentally," Baron Arald joked.

Halt merely shrugged. "If I recall correctly, Horace only beat Morgarath by tripping over his own feet," he pointed out dryly.

 _"Halt!"_ Cassandra scolded, but was mostly drowned out by Gilan's sudden howls of laughter. Horace was grinning broadly - he remembered Halt's retelling of the tale in Skandia, after all - but Sir Rodney's smile was just passing the polite marker and rather strained.

"Never heard you put _that_ spin on it before, Halt!" he cackled, before dissolving once more into helpless mirth.

"If you're quite finished," King Duncan interrupted, cutting neatly through the cacophony with a slight smile on his face.

**The two batltehorses reared in terror, Rodney and the Baron only just managing to retain their seats. They backed away from the fire. There was a terrible reek of charred hair and flesh filling the air. Vaguely, Will remembered Halt discussing the way to deal with a Kalkara. He had said that they were rumored to be particularly susceptible to fire. Some rumor, he thought heavily, trotting Tug forward to join the two knights.**

**Rodney was rubbing his eyes, still dazzled by the enormous flash.**

**"What the devil caused that?" he asked. The Baron gingerly retrieved his lance from the fire. The wood was charred and the point blackened.**

"That tends to happen when wood gets set on fire," Crowley remarked. Baron Arald sent him his third-best Baron's Stink Eye, but the Commandant just grinned unrepentantly.

**"It must be the waxy substance that mats their hair together into that hard shell," he replied, in a wondering tone of voice. "It must be highly flammable."**

**"Well, whatever it was, we did it," Rodney replied, a note of satisfaction in his voice. The Baron shook his head.**

**"Halt did it," he corrected his Battlemaster. "We merely finished him off."**

"There's a _second one..."_ Cassandra muttered, shifting impatiently in her seat.

"He'll show up soon enough," Will said, with an air of resignation about him.

**Rodney nodded, accepting the correction. The Baron glanced at the fire, still pouring a torrent of sparks into the air, but settling back now from the huge explosion of red flame.**

**"He must have lit this fire when he sensed they were circling back on him. He lit up the area so he had light to shoot by."**

**"He shot all right," Sir Rodney put in. "Those arrows must have all struck within a few square centimeters."**

Will and Gilan both grinned brilliantly at their mentor.

**They looked around, searching for some sign of the Ranger.**

**Then, below the ruined walls of the castle, Will caught sight of a familiar object. He dismounted and ran to retrieved it and his heard sank as he picked up Halt's powerful longbow, smashed and splintered into two pieces.**

Lady Pauline's low, horrified cry was drowned out by the commotion of Crowley upsetting the table as he shot to his feet.

 _"No,"_ he muttered, turning on Halt. "You - you said it wasn't you - you _said_ \- "

"Crowley," Halt said slowly, rising from his chair. "Crowley. Look at me. I'm right here."

"But..." Crowley faltered, knuckles white on the edge of the table, "you...your bow..."

 _"Crowley,"_ Halt repeated, grasping his friend by the shoulders. _"I am right here._ I'm _fine."_

Crowley nodded slowly, lowering himself back into his seat after picking up the chair he'd inadvertently overturned.

**"He must have fired from over here," he said, indicating the point below the ruined wall where he had found the bow. They looked up, imagining the scene, trying to re-create it. The Baron took the shattered weapon from Will as he remounted Tug.**

**"And the second Kalkara reached him as he killed its brother," he said. "The question is, where is Halt now? And where is the other Kalkara?"**

**That was when they heard the screaming start again.**

Crowley made an inarticulate but distressed noise in his throat, but managed to keep his seat this time as King Duncan closed the book.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," Horace said, deliberately forcing lightness into his voice. "Is there food?"

 _"Horace,"_ Cassie groaned, hiding a grin _._


	31. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halt reads chapter thirty of Ruins of Gorlan. It's not as bad as everyone was anticipating.

Halt accepted the volume wordlessly from King Duncan. He scanned the next page briefly, made a face, and began to read.

**Inside the ruined, overgrown courtyard, Halt crouched among the tumbled masonry that had once been Morgrath's stronghold. His leg, numb where the Kalkara had clawed him, was beginning to throb painfully and he could feel the blood seeping past the rough bandage he had thrown around it.**

Lady Pauline, who had remained remarkably composed throughout the terrifying uncertainty of the last chapter, tightened her grip on her husband's hand. Halt looked over at her, eyebrows raised in a silent question, but she shook her head slightly. _I'm fine,_ she said silently, managing a small smile. And she was. As a diplomat, Lady Pauline was excellent at both controlling and working through her emotions. She was, of course, afraid for her husband's well-being - but all of this was in the past, and Halt was sitting right beside her, a little scarred, but very much alive and whole.

**He was wounded and unarmed. His bow was gone, smashed in that first terrifying charge when he had fired arrow after arrow into the first of the two monsters. He knew the power of his bow and the penetrative qualities of his razor-sharp, heavy arrowheads. He couldn't believe that the monster had continued to absorb that hail of arrows and still come on, seemingly undaunted. By the time it faltered, it was already too late for Halt to turn his attention to its companion. The second Kalkara was almost upon him, its massive, taloned paw smashing the bow from his grasp, so that he barely had time to scramble for safety onto the ruined wall.**

**As it clawed its way after him, he had drawn his saxe knife and tried to strike at the terrible head.**

"What were you planning to do with that?" Will asked weakly, echoing Halt's own words to him after his fight with the boar.

Halt just grunted.

**But the beast had been too fast for him and the heavy knife merely glanced off one of its armored forearms. At the same time, he had found himself confronted by its red, hate-filled eyes and felt his mind leaving him, his muscles freezing in terror as he was drawn to the horrific beast before him.**

There was a tiny tremor to Halt's voice as he read that last line. Not everyone picked up on it, but those that did stared at him in alarm.

"Dear, you don't have to read this chapter if you don't want to," Pauline told him softly.

Halt shook his head. "It's fine," he said gruffly. But he kept holding on to her hand.

**It took an immense effort to wrench his eyes away from the creature's gaze, and he staggered back, losing the saxe knife as the bearlike claws swiped at him and ripped down the length of his thigh.**

Gilan hissed in a breath, and Lady Pauline's face began to pale.

**Then he had run, unarmed and bleeding, trusting to the mazelike confusion of the ruins to evade the monster behind him.**

**He had sensed the change in the Kalkara's movements around late afternoon. Their steady and previously undeviating path to the northeast suddenly changed as the two beasts abruptly separated, each turning through ninety degrees and moving in different directions into the forest that surrounded them. Their trails, up until then so easy to follow, also showed signs of concealment, so that only a tracker as skilled as a Ranger would have been able to follow them.**

"How would the Kalkara have concealed their tracks?" Alyss wondered aloud. "I thought they weren't intelligent. Well, not so much unintelligent as single-minded," she amended, reconsidering her statement based on what she'd heard of the Kalkara, coupled with what Will had told her.

**For the first time in years, Halt felt a cold stone of fear in his belly as he realized that the Kalkara were now hunting him.**

_"Brilliant_ deduction, Halt," said Crowley, who had finished with the hysteria stage of fear and moved into undirected anger expressed mostly by acerbic sarcasm.

**The Ruins were close by and he elected to make a stand there, rather than in the woods. He knew the Kalkara would come after him once night fell, so he prepared as best he could, gathering dead fall wood to form the bonfire. He even found half a jar of cooking oil in the ruins of the kitchen.**

"How on earth was that not broken?" King Duncan marveled quietly.

It was Horace who answered, with a perfectly straight face. "Morgarath mastered the art of jar-making."

Sir Rodney glared at Halt like he was to blame (which he probably was). "You corrupted him," he accused.

"Good," Halt said, utterly unrepentant. "Maybe it'll keep him alive around all those backstabbing nobles. Present company excluded, of course," he added, with a slight bow in Cassandra's direction.

The princess in question grinned. "At least everyone at this table has the good courtesy to do their stabbing to the front."

Halt snorted at that.

**It was rancid and foul smelling, but it would still burn. He poured it over the pile of wood and moved back to a spot where he could place the wall at his back. He had fashioned a supply of torches and kept them burning as darkness fell and he waited for the implacable killers to come for him.**

"Excellent tactics."

"Oh, shut up Crowley."

**He sensed them before he saw them. Then he made out the two shambling forms, darker patches against the darkness of the trees. They saw him immediately, of course. The flickering torch jammed into the wall behind him made sure of that. But they missed the pile of oil-soaked wood - and that was what he had been counting on. As the screamed their hunting cries, he tossed the burning torch into the pile and the flames leaped up instantly, flaring yellow in the darkness.**

**For a moment, the beasts hesitated. Fire was their one fear. But they saw the Ranger was nowhere near the flames and they came forward - straight into the hail of arrows that Halt met them with.**

"All right," Crowley muttered. "I concede. That was a good plan."

Halt looked unbearably smug, and Rodney wished for a brief moment that Pritchard was around to put a hole in everyone's egos.

**If they'd had another hundred meters to cover, he might have managed to stop them both. He still had over a dozen arrows in his quiver. But time and distance were against him and he had barely escaped with his life. Now, he huddled beneath two pieces of masonry that formed an A-shaped refuge, hidden in a shallow indentation in the ground, his cloak concealing him, as it had for years. His only hope now was that Will would arrive with Arald and Rodney.**

"My thanks," Halt said briefly, inclining his head.

**If he could evade the creature until help came, he might have a chance.**

**He tried not to think of the other possibility - that Gilan would arrive before them, alone and armed only with his bow and sword. Now that he had seen the Kalkara close-up, Halt knew that one man had little chance of standing against it. If Gilan arrived before the knights, he and Halt would both die here.**

Jenny clasped Gilan's hand briefly. Gilan turned to smile at her.

"I'm all right," he soothed.

Jenny scowled. "I _know_ that, you great towering fool," she said sharply.

Across the table, Alyss smirked. Jenny and Alyss rolled their eyes at each other. _Men_.

**The creature was quartering the old courtyard now like a hunting dog in search of game, adopting a methodical search pattern, back and forth, examining every space, every cranny, every possibly hiding place. This time, he knew, it would find him. His hand touched the hilt of his small throwing knife, the only weapon left to him. It would be a puny, almost useless defense, but it was all he had left.**

"What happened to your torch?" Cassandra asked.

Halt shook his head. "Couldn't get to it," he said briefly.

**Then he heard it: the unmistakable heavy drumming of battlehorses's hooves. He looked up, watching the Kalkara through a small gap between the rocks that concealed him. It heard them too. It was standing erect, its face turned toward the sound outside the ruined walls.**

**The horses stopped, and he heard the ringing scream of the mortally wounded Kalkara outside as it challenged these new enemies. The hoofbeats rose again, gaining speed and momentum. Then there was a scream and a gigantic red flash that towered for a moment into the sky. Dimly, Halt reasoned that the first Kalkara must have been thrust into the fire. He began to inch back, wriggling out of his hiding place. Perhaps he could outflank the remaining Kalkara, moving to the side and scaling the wall before it noticed him. The chances seemed good. Its attention was drawn now to whatever was happening outside. But even as he had the thought, he realized it was no option. Though the Kalkara had apparently forgotten him for the moment, it was moving stealthily toward the tumbled masonry that formed a rough stairway to the top of the wall.**

**In a few more minutes, it would be in position to drop on his unsuspecting friends on the other side, taking them by surprise. He had to stop it.**

"Moron," Crowley muttered.

Halt turned slowly to face his friend. "You would have done the same thing," he said, tone deceptively mind, and Crowley had to concede that yes, he probably would have.

**Halt was clear of the hiding place now, the small knife sliding free of the sheath almost of its own volition as he ran across the courtyard, dodging and weaving among the scattered rubble. The Kalkara herd him before he had gone half a dozen paces and it turned back on him, terrifying in its silence as it loped, apelike, to cut him off before he could warn his friends.**

Lady Pauline's grip on Halt's hand tightened briefly. He squeezed back, once, before continuing on, voice clear and steady.

**Halt stopped suddenly, stock-still, eyes locked on the shambling figure coming at him.**

**In another few meters, its hypnotic gaze would seize control of his mind. He felt the irresistible urge to look into those red eyes growing stronger. Then he closed his own eyes, his brow furrowed in fierce concentration, and brought his knife hand up, back and forward in one smooth, instinctive memory throw, seeing the target moving in his mind's eye, mentally aligning the throw and the spin of the knife to the point in space where knife and target would arrive simultaneously.**

Exclamations of impressed surprise issued from those present.

"You made that shot with your eyes _closed?"_ Gilan yelped, staring at his old mentor. "How?!"

"Practice," Halt said simply.

**Only a Ranger could have made that throw - and only one of a handful of them.**

"Because they don't practice?" Crowley guessed, grinning a little.

Halt inclined his head. "Exactly."

Rodney wondered if he ought to include throwing knives in the training regimen for a certain class of his soldiers. A new division of men-at-arms, specializing in weapons that worked both at range and in close quarters...

King Duncan was thinking along similar lines.

**It took the Kalkara in its right eye and the beast screamed in pain and fury as it stopped to clutch at the sudden lance of agony that began in it eye and seared all the way to the pain sensors in its brain. Then Halt was running past it for the wall, scrambling up the rocks.**

**Will saw him as a shadowy figure as he scrambled onto the top of the ruined wall. But shadowy or not there was something unmistakable about it.**

**"Halt!" he cried, pointing so that the two knights saw him as well.**

"Don't Halt, Halt," Gilan muttered. Jenny elbowed him gently.

**All three of them saw the Ranger pause, look back and hesitate. Then a huge shape began to appear a few meters behind him as the Kalkara, whose wound was painful but nowhere near mortal, came after him.**

**Baron Arald went to remount. Then, realizing that no horse could pick its way through the tumble of rocks and masonry beside the wall,**

The Rangers present looked as if they might take exception to that, but held their tongues. Crowley privately (and grudgingly) admitted that while a Ranger horse probably could pick its way through the rubble, it would essentially be a sitting duck for any attackers.

**he dragged his huge broadsword from its saddle scabbard and ran toward the ruins.**

**"Get back, Will!" he shouted as he advanced and Will nervously edged Tug back to the fringe of the trees.**

Halt nodded a discreet thanks to Baron Arald, who nodded back. Nobody else noticed the exchange.

**On the wall, Halt heard the shout and saw Arald running forward. Sir Rodney was close behind him, a huge battleax whirring in circles around his head.**

**"Jump, Halt! Jump!" the Baron shouted, and Halt needed no further invitation. He leaped the three meters from the wall, rolling to break his fall as he landed. Then he was up on his feet, running awkwardly to meet the two knights as the wound in his leg reopened.**

Halt unconsciously rubbed the scar on his leg, the only souvenir of that night, as he read, letting the book rest on the table instead of holding it in his hands.

**Will watched, his heart in his mouth, as Halt ran toward the two knights. The Kalkara hesitated a moment, then, screaming a blood-curdling challenge it leaped after him. But, whereas Halt had rolled to recover, the Kalkara simply transformed the three-meter drop into a huge, bounding leap, its unbelievably powerful rear legs driving it up and forward, covering the ground between it and Halt in that one movement.**

Horace hissed in a breath, his mind already running through all the possible ways that this could go wrong. Gilan had gone pale, and Jenny had one hand over her mouth.

Will was calmer, having been witness to the event and being perfectly aware of how it had played out, but there was still tension in his face as he listened to Halt reading (how his mentor's voice was still so steady was beyond him).

**The massive arm swung, catching Halt a glancing blow and sending him rolling forward, unconscious. But the beast had no time to finish him off, as Baron Arald stepped up to meet it, the broadsword humming in a deadly arc for its neck.**

Halt nodded his thanks at Baron Arald once more. This time, the Baron offered a tired smile.

"What are friends for?" he pointed out.

"Breaking you out of jail," Crowley said with a grin. Both the Baron and the King laughed at that.

**The Kalkara was wickedly fast and it ducked the killing blow, then slammed its talons into Arald's exposed back before he could recover from the stroke.**

Sir Rodney winced at that. Baron Arald reached around to touch the back of his shirt where the claws had left scars.

**They slashed the chain mail as if it were wool and Arald grunted in pain and surprise as the force of the blow drove him to his knees, the broadsword falling from his hands, blood streaming from half a dozen deep slashes in his back.**

**He would have died then and there had it not been for Sir Rodney.**

"Nothing new there," Rodney muttered, a bit of a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, shut up."

Cassandra laughed.

King Duncan raised his eyes to the ceiling.

**The Battlemaster whirled the heavy war ax as if it were a toy, and crashed it into the Kalkara's side.**

**The armor of wax-matted hair protected the beast, but the sheer force of the blow staggered it so that it reeled back from the knight, screaming in fury and frustration. Sir Rodney advanced, placing himself protectively between the Kalkara and the prone figures of Halt and the Baron, his feet set, the ax drawing back for another crushing blow.**

**And then, strangely, he let the weapon fall from his grasp and stood before the monster, totally at its mercy as the power of the Kalkara's gaze, now channeled through its one good eye, robbed him of his will and his ability to think.**

Gilan swore. Horace echoed the sentiment. Jenny made a vaguely scandalized noise, but Cassandra heartily agreed with her husband.

**The Kalkara screamed its victory to the night sky. Black blood streamed down its face. Never in its life had it felt such pain as these three puny men had inflicted on it. And now they would die for presuming to stand against it.**

"It almost sounds like Morgarath," King Duncan said dryly.

**But the primitive intelligence that drove it wanted its moment of triumph and it screamed again and again over the three helpless men.**

**Will watched, horrified.**

"Feel free to lend a hand, Will," Halt said, looking over at his apprentice to be sure the young man didn't take it too seriously.

Will just grinned. "Can't rush genius, Halt."

"Then what's taking you so long?"

**A thought was forming, an idea was lurking somewhere at the edge of his mind. He looked to one side, saw the flickering torch that Baron Arald had discarded. Fire. The one weapon that could defeat the Kalkara. But he was still forty meters away from the Kalkara…**

"You have a bow," Horace pointed out.

"And the Kalkara could reach me in a matter of seconds. Forgive me if I wasn't too eager to draw attention to myself without a weapon that would kill it," Will shot back.

**He whipped an arrow from his quiver, slipping from the saddle and running lightly to the flickering torch. A good supply of sticky, melted pitch had run down the handle of the torch and he quickly rolled the arrowhead in the soft, clinging stuff, forming a huge gobbet of it on the arrow. Then he placed it in the flame until it flared to life.**

**Forty meters away, the huge evil creature was satisfying its need for triumph, its screams rolling and echoing through the night as it stood over the two bodies - Halt unconscious, Baron Arald in a daze of pain. Sir Rodney still stood, frozen in place, hands dangling helplessly by his side as he waited for his death. Now the Kalkara raised one massive, taloned paw to strike him down and all the knight could feel was the paralyzing terror of its gaze.**

A low, angry rumble rolled over the table and those present were surprised to hear it coming from Baron Arald.

 **Will brought the arrow back to full draw, wincing at the pain as the flames singed against his bow hand. He raised his aim point a little to allow for the extra weight of the** **pitch** \- Halt nodded his approval - **and released.**

**The arrow soared in a spark-trailing arc, the wind of its passage subduing the flame to a mere coal. The Kalkara saw the flash of light coming and turned to look,**

"Mistake," Rodney muttered.

"But an instinctive one," Crowley added.

**sealing its own fate as the arrow struck it square in its massive chest.**

**It barely penetrated an inch into the hard, scale-like hair. But as the arrow came to a halt** \- Gilan couldn't suppress a snort, and Halt sent him a withering glare - **the little flame flared again, the bonding material in the hair around it caught, and the flame began to spread with incredible speed.**

**Now the Kalkara's screams had terror in them as it felt the touch of fire - the one thing in life it feared.**

**The monster beat at the flames on its chest with its paws but that served only to spread the fire to its arms. There was a sudden rush of red flame and in seconds the Kalkara was engulfed, burning from head to toe, rushing blindly in circles in a vain attempt to escape.**

Despite herself, Alyss shivered a little. The idea of burning alive was...not a pleasant one, to say the least. It ranked somewhere between painful wasting disease and being eaten alive in the list of ways she'd want to die. Not that she wanted to die at all, of course, but it was always best to be prepared.

**The screams were nonstop, piercing, reaching higher and higher into a scale of agony that the mind could barely comprehend and as the rush of flames grew fiercer with each second.**

**And then the screaming stopped and the creature was dead.**

"Oh, thank God," Lady Pauline murmured _._

_Also, I apologize._


	32. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Pauline reads chapter thirty-one of Ruins of Gorlan. Love is in the aaaiiiiiirrr....

It was Jenny who realized that it was past noon and forced the group (none of whom resisted overmuch, even Halt) to take a break from reading and eat. When Jenny was satisfied, it was Lady Pauline who picked up the book and began reading.

**The inn at Wensley Village was full of music and laughter and noise. Will sat at a table with Horace, Alyss and Jenny, while the innkeeper plied them with a succulent dinner of roast goose and farm fresh vegetables, followed by a delicious blueberry pie whose flaky pastry won even Jenny's approval.**

Gilan whistled. "It must have been good pie."

"It was excellent pie," Horace agreed, looking slightly mournful.

"You just ate lunch," Cassandra hissed.

"There was no pie!"

**It had been Horace's idea to celebrate Will's return to Castle Redmont with a feast. The two girls had agreed immediately, eager for a break in their day-to-day lives, which now seemed rather humdrum compared to the events that Will had been part of.**

Lady Pauline turned to give Alyss a practiced Look - one eyebrow raised and full of disapproval. Alyss colored slightly.

**Naturally, word of the battle with the Kalkara had gone around the village like wildfire -**

"Whoever wrote this did that on purpose," Gilan muttered.

**an appropriate simile, Will thought as it occurred to him. As he entered the inn with his friends that evening, an expectant hush had fallen over the room and every eye had turned toward him. He was grateful for the deep cowl on his cloak, which concealed his rapidly reddening features. His three companions sensed his embarrassment. Jenny, as ever, was the quickest to react, and to break the silence that filled the inn.**

Gilan grinned at her. "She's got a knack for that," he joked lightly.

Jenny blushed.

**"Come on, you solemn lot!" she cried to the musicians by the fireplace. " Let's have some music in here! And some chatter if you please!" She added the second suggestion with a meaningful glance at the other occupants in the room.**

**The musicians took their cue from her. Jenny was a difficult person to refuse.**

Jenny straightened at that, tilting her chin ever so slightly upward in pride.

Lady Pauline smiled. "Perhaps we should have offered her a place in the Diplomatic Service." Alyss nodded her enthusiastic agreement.

Jenny looked positively horrified at the idea. "But - my restaurant!" she cried.

"Alyss, how could you?" Gilan joked, wrapping an arm around Jenny's shoulders.

Alyss spread her hands apologetically.

**They quickly struck up a popular local folk tune and the sound filled the room. The other villagers gradually realized that their attention was making Will uncomfortable. They remembered their manners and began talking among themselves again, only occasionally casting glances his way, marveling that one so apparently young could have been part of such momentous events.**

"You have no idea," Halt muttered, just loud enough for the rest of the table to hear him. Will flushed red.

**The four former wardmates took their seats at a table at the back of the room, where they could talk without interruption. "George sent his apologies," Alyss said as they took their seats. "He's snowed under with paperwork - the entire Scribeschool is working day and night." Will nodded his understanding. The impending war with Morgarath, and the need to mobilize troops and call in old alliances, must have created a mountain of paperwork.**

"You have no idea," King Duncan said mournfully.

**So much had happened in the ten days since the battle with the Kalkara.**

**Making camp by the ruins, Rodney and Will had tended to the wounds of Baron Arald and Halt, finally settling the two men into a restful sleep.**

"You need to stop making a habit out of that," Rodney muttered to Arald.

Arald merely rolled his eyes in response.

**The following morning saw the arrival of a leg-weary Gilan, riding a sway-backed plow horse.**

That startled a laugh out of Jenny, and a hasty cough from Horace. Gilan glared at both of them.

**The tall Ranger gratefully reclaimed Blaze. Then, after being reassured that his former master was in no danger, he set off almost immediately for his own fief, after Will promised to return the plow horse to its owner.**

Gilan eyed Will skeptically. "You _did_ give the plow horse back, right?"

"Of course I did!" Will said indignantly.

**Later in the day, Will, Halt, Rodney and Arald had returned to Castle Redmont, where they were all plunged into the nonstop activity of preparing the castle's fighting men for war. There were a thousand and one details to be handled, messages to be delivered and summons sent out. With Halt still recuperating from his wound, a great deal of this work had fallen to Will.**

**In times like these, he realized, a Ranger had little chance for relaxation,**

"What's relaxation?" Crowley wanted to know. Halt kicked him under the table. Lady Pauline then kicked Halt under the table.

**which made this evening such a welcome diversion. The innkeeper bustled importantly to their table and set down four glass tankards and a jug of the nonalcoholic beer he brewed from ginger root before them.**

"The lot of you drunk is one more thing than the kingdom can handle," Halt grumbled.

"You're worse," Crowley said bluntly, staring pointedly at his friend.

Cassandra was stifling laughter. King Duncan pretended not to hear anything.

**"No charge for this table tonight," he said. "We're privileged to have you in our establishment, Ranger." He moved away, calling to one of his serving boys to come and attend the Ranger's table, "And be quick smart about it!"**

**Alyss raised one eyebrow in amazement. "Nice to be with a celebrity," she said. "Old Skinner usually holds on to a coin so tight, the king's head suffocates."**

Alyss smiled apologetically at King Duncan, who waved her apology away with a slight smile. Cassandra stifled a laugh.

**Will made a dismissive gesture. "People exaggerate things," he said. But Horace leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "So tell us about the fight," he said, eager for details. Jenny looked wide-eyed at Will. "I can't believe how brave you were!" she said admiringly.**

"I'm brave," Gilan muttered sulkily.

Jenny patted his arm sympathetically. "Of course you are, dear."

**"I would have been terrified. "Actually, I was petrified," Will told them with a rueful grin. "The Baron and Sir Rodney were the brave ones. They charged in and took those creatures on at close quarters. I was forty or fifty meters away the whole time. "**

"Give yourself some credit, Will," Sir Rodney said bracingly. "You did kill the damn thing."

"Don't remind anyone," Will muttered. Halt concealed a snort.

**He described the events of the battle, without going into too much detail in his description of the Kalkara. They were dead and gone now, he thought, and best forgotten as soon as possible. Some things didn't need dwelling on. The three others listened, Jenny wide-eyed and excited, Horace eager for details of the fight and Alyss calm and dignified as ever, but totally engrossed in his story. As he described his solo ride to summon help, Horace shook his head in admiration.**

**"Those Ranger horses must be a breed apart," he said.**

"The trick is staying on them," Gilan teased. Horace laughed, and even Cassandra cracked a smile.

**Will grinned at him, unable to resist the jibe that rose to his mind.**

**"The trick is staying on them," he said, and was pleased to see a matching grin spread over Horace's face as they both remembered the scene at the Harvest Day Fair. He realized, with a small glow of pleasure, that his relationship with Horace had evolved into a firm friendship, with each viewing the other as an equal. Eager to slip out of the spotlight, he asked Horace how life was progressing in Battleschool. The grin on the bigger boy's face widened.**

A small smile grew on Sir Rodney's face. He took great pride in both his Battleschool and his students.

**"A lot better these days, thanks to Halt," he said and, as Will adroitly plied him with more questions, he described life in the Battleschool for them, joking about his mistakes and shortcomings, laughing as he described the many punishment details he attracted. Will noticed how Horace, once inclined to be boastful and a little arrogant, was far more self-effacing these days. He suspected that Horace was doing better as an apprentice warrior than he let on.**

"Of course he was," Sir Rodney sighed.

Baron Arald eyed his friend, a slight smile curling his lips. "It's not boasting if it's true, is that it?"

Sir Rodney spread his hands. "See, you understand."

King Duncan chuckled. Horace had gone slightly pink. Cassandra grinned, and shot her husband a pointed look.

**It was a pleasant evening, all the more so after the strain and terror of the hunt for the Kalkara. As the servers cleared their plates, Jenny smiled expectantly at the two boys. "Right! Now who's going to dance with me?" she said brightly and Will was just too slow in responding, Horace claiming her hand and leading her to the dance floor.**

Alyss looked rather pointedly at Will. Lady Pauline continued reading with an amused note in her voice.

**As they joined the dancers, Will glanced uncertainly at Alyss. He was never quite sure what the tall girl was thinking. He thought that perhaps it might be good manners to ask her to dance as well.**

"You are truly impossible," Cassandra said dryly, a small smile curving her mouth.

Alyss shot the princess a look that said, _You have no idea._

**He cleared his throat nervously. "Um… would you like to dance too, Alyss?" he said awkwardly. She favored him with the barest trace of a smile. "Perhaps not, Will. I'm no great shakes as a dancer. I seem to be all legs."**

Will snorted.

**In fact, she was an excellent dancer but, a diplomat to the core, she sensed that Will had only asked her out of politeness. He nodded several times and they lapsed into companionable silence.**

**After some minutes, she turned toward him, placing her chin on her hand to consider him closely. "A big day for you tomorrow," she said, and he flushed. He had been summoned to appear before the Baron's entire court the following day. "I don't know what that's all about," he muttered.**

**Alyss smiled at him."He possibly wants to thank you in public," she said. "I'm told barons tend to do that to people who have saved their lives."**

"Oh, they do," Rodney muttered, mock glaring in Baron Arald's direction.

The Baron just smiled. "It's considered good manners."

**He began to say something, but she laid her hand over his and he stopped. He looked into those calm, smiling gray eyes. Alyss had never struck him as pretty. But now he realized that her elegance and grace and those gray eyes, framed by her fine blond hair, created a natural beauty that far surpassed mere prettiness. Surprisingly, she leaned closer to him and whispered, "We're all proud of you, Will. And I think I'm proudest of all."**

Halt refrained from taking exception at that, but his eyes did narrow slightly.

**And she kissed him. Her lips on his were incredibly, indescribably soft. Hours later, before he finally fell asleep, he could still feel them.**

Gilan cackled madly. Will and Alyss were both very red. Halt muttered something about "love signals" _._


	33. Ruins of Gorlan - Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny reads chapter 32 of Ruins of Gorlan. Just the epilogue left, guys.

Lady Pauline handed the book to Jenny, who accepted it with a large smile and began to read.

**Will stood, transfixed by stage fright, just inside the massive doors to the Baron's audience hall.**

**The building itself was enormous. It was the main room of the castle, the room where the Baron conducted all his official business with the members of his court. The ceiling seemed to stretch upward forever. Shafts of light poured down into the room from windows set high in the massive walls. At the far end of the room, seeming to be kilometers away, the Baron sat, wearing his finest robes, on a raised, throne-like chair.**

"I hate those bloody things," Baron Arald muttered. He might be Redmont's resident peacock, but he had _standards_ , dammit.

**Between him and Will was the biggest crowd Will had ever seen. Halt propelled his apprentice gently forward with a shove in the back. "Get on with it," he muttered.**

**There were hundreds of people in the Great Hall and every eye was turned toward Will. All of the Baron's Craftmasters were there, in their official robes.**

Now it was Sir Rodney's turn to scowl.

**All of his knights and all the ladies of the court-every one in their best and finest clothes. Farther down the hall were the men-at-arms from the Baron's army, the other apprentices and the trademasters from the village. He saw a flutter of color as Jenny, uninhibited as ever, waved a scarf at him.**

Jenny eyed Will briefly. If it was anyone else, she might suspect a double meaning in the words - but then again, he hadn't written the book. Nevertheless, her reputation remained unstained, and she said nothing.

**Alyss, standing be side her, was a little more discreet. She unobtrusively kissed her fingertips to him.**

**He stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He wished that Halt had let him wear his Ranger's cloak, so he could blend into the background and disappear.**

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Will." Crowley grinned.

"It should," Will muttered.

**Halt shoved him again. "Get a move on!" he hissed.**

**Will turned to him. "Aren't you coming with me?" he asked. Halt shook his head.**

**"Not invited. Now get going!"**

"Not that that's ever stopped you before," King Duncan said dryly.

Halt merely shrugged. "I need to speak with you."

Crowley glared at him. "And give me a heart attack in the mean time."

**He shoved him once more, then limped, favoring his injured leg, to a seat. Finally, realizing he had no other course to follow, Will began to walk down the long, long aisle. He heard the muttering voices as he went, hearing his name whispered from one person to another.**

**And then the clapping started. It began with one knight's lady and rapidly spread throughout the entire hall as everyone joined in. It was deafening, a thundering, echoing roar of applause that continued until he reached the foot of the Baron's chair.**

**As Halt had instructed him, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head forward.**

"So you _do_ have some manners," King Duncan muttered, not entirely sure if he was talking to Will or Halt. Probably Halt.

**The Baron stood up and raised his hand for silence and the clapping died away to echoes. "Stand up, Will," he said softly, and reached out a hand to help the boy to his feet.**

**In a daze, Will obeyed. The Baron rested a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face the huge throng before them. His deep voice carried effortlessly to the farthest corner of the hall when he spoke.**

"How do you manage to make that work?" Jenny asked curiously.

Baron Arald shrugged. "Partially by being loud. There's a few other tricks to it as well, but a large part of it is just experience."

**"This is Will. Apprentice to the Ranger Halt of this fiefdom. See him now and know him, all of you. He has proven his fidelity, courage and initiative to this fief and to the Kingdom of Araluen," There was a murmur of appreciation from the people watching. Then the clapping began again, this time accompanied by cheering. Will realized the cheers had begun in the section of the crowd where the Battleschool apprentice warriors stood.**

"I can't imagine who started them," Cassandra said dryly, turning to smile at Horace.

Horace's face colored slightly, but he grinned back.

**He could make out Horace's grinning face, leading the chorus.**

**The Baron held up a hand for silence, wincing as the movement brought pain to his cracked ribs and the carefully bandaged and sutured gashes in his back.**

Sir Rodney's lips thinned briefly.

**The cheering and clapping slowly died away. "Will," he said, in a voice that echoed to the farthest corners of the massive room, "I owe you my life. There can be no thanks adequate for that. However, it is in my power to grant you a wish that you once made of me."**

Gilan frowned. "What wish?"

**Will looked up at him, frowning." A wish, sir?" he said, more than a little puzzled by the Baron's words.**

**The Baron nodded. "I made a mistake, Will."**

"You're going to have to be more specific than that," Crowley teased.

Baron Arald just laughed.

**"You asked me if you could train as a warrior. It was your wish to become one of my knights and I refused you."**

Will groaned. "We're back to this again."

**"Now, I can rectify that mistake. It would do me honor to have one so brave and resourceful as one of my knights. Say the word now and you have my permission to transfer to the Battleschool as one of Sir Rodney's apprentices."**

**Will's heart pounded in his ribs. He thought how, all his life, he had yearned to be a knight.**

"I still say you'd make a terrible knight," Horace muttered.

Will scowled at him. "And I still stay you'd make a terrible Ranger."

Cassandra rolled her eyes. Sir Rodney and Halt exchanged a glance and shook their heads. _Apprentices._

**He remembered his deep and bitter disappointment on the day of the Choosing, when Sir Rodney and the Baron had refused his request.**

**Sir Rodney stepped forward, and the Baron gestured for him to speak.**

**"My lord," said the Battlemaster," it was I who refused this boy as an apprentice, as you know. Now, I want all here to know that I was wrong to do so. I, my knights and my apprentices all agree that there could be no more worthy member of the Battleschool than Will!"**

**There was a great roar of approval from the assembled knights and apprentice warriors. With a slithering clash of steel they unsheathed their swords and clashed them together above their heads, shouting Will's name. Again, Horace was one of the first to do so, and the last to stop.**

**Gradually, the tumult died down and the knights resheathed their swords. At a sign from Baron Arald, two pages stepped forward, bearing with them a sword and a beautifully enameled shield, which they laid at Will's feet. The shield was painted with a representation of a fierce boar's head." This will be your coat of arms when you graduate, Will," said the Baron gently," to remind the world of the first time we learned of your courage and loyalty to a comrade. " The boy went down on one knee and touched the smooth, enameled surface of the shield. He drew the sword slowly and reverently from its scabbard. It was a beautiful weapon, a masterpiece of the swordsmith's art.**

**The blade was razor keen, and slightly blued. The hilt and crosspiece were inlaid with gold and the boar's head symbol was repeated on the pommel. The sword itself seemed to have a life of its own. Perfectly balanced, it seemed light as a feather in his grasp. He glanced from the beautiful, jeweled sword to the plain leather grip of his Ranger knife.**

Sir Rodney turned to look at Baron Arald with one eyebrow raised.

Arald coughed. "The, ah, blacksmith...may have gone slightly overboard."

Rodney snorted.

**"They're a knight's weapons, Will," the Baron urged. " But you've proved over and again that you're worthy of them. Just say the word and they're yours."**

**Will slid the sword back into its scabbard and stood slowly up. Here was everything he had ever wished for. And yet…**

**He thought of the long days in the forest with Halt.**

The Ranger in question had a peculiar look on his face. It was almost - _almost_ \- a smile.

**The fierce satisfaction that he felt when one of his arrows struck home, exactly where he had aimed it, exactly as he had seen it in his mind before releasing it. He thought of the hours spent learning to track animals and men. Learning the art of concealment. He thought of Tug, of the pony's courage and devotion.**

Will smiled fondly at the mention of his beloved little horse.

**He thought of the sheer pleasure that came when he heard Halt's simple "Well done" as he completed a task to his satisfaction.**

Halt was definitely smiling now, and his eyes were bright. The others, even Crowley, were kind enough not to mention it.

Lady Pauline squeezed her husband's hand.

**And suddenly, he knew. He looked up at the Baron and said in a firm voice:**

**"I am a Ranger, my lord."**

Crowley grinned broadly. Halt merely nodded once.

"As it should be."

**There was a murmur of surprise from the crowd.**

**The Baron stepped closer and said in a low voice, "Are you sure, Will? Don't turn this down just because you think Halt might be offended or disappointed. He insisted that this is up to you. He's already agreed to abide by your decision."**

"There's a first time for everything," King Duncan said, with an air of resignation.

**Will shook his head. He was more certain than ever now. "I thank you for the honor, my lord." He glanced at the Battlemaster, and saw, to his surprise, that Sir Rodney was smiling and nodding his head in approval. "And I thank the Battlemaster and his knights for their generous offer. But I am a Ranger."**

The ghost of a smile flitted across Halt's face.

**He hesitated. "I mean no offense by this, my lord," he finished awkwardly.**

**A huge smile creased the Baron's features and he gripped Will's hand in his enormous grip." And I take none, Will. None at all! Your loyalty to your craft and your Craftmaster does honor to you and to all of us who know you!" He gave Will's hand one final, firm shake and released him.**

**Will bowed and turned away to walk down that long, long aisle again. Again, the cheering started and this time, he kept his head high as the cheers rolled around him and echoed to the rafters of the Great Hall. Then, as he neared the massive doors once more, he saw a sight that stopped him in his tracks, stunned with surprise.**

**For, standing a little aside from the crowd, wrapped in his gray and green mottled cloak, his eyes shadowed by the cowl, was Halt. And he was smiling.**

"The world must be ending," Sir Rodney drawled _._


	34. Ruins of Gorlan - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilan reads the epilogue to Ruins of Gorlan. Book one is officially finished.
> 
> Book two to come...eventually.

Jenny offered the book to Gilan with a cheerful smile. The tall ranger laughed and took it from her, flipping it open to the right page and reading aloud.

**Later that afternoon, after all the noise and celebrations had died down, Will sat alone on the tiny verandah of Halt's small cottage.**

_"Verandah,"_ Crowley muttered, cackling to himself.

**In his hand, he held a small bronze amulet, shaped like an oak leaf, with a steel chain threaded through a ring at the top.**

Will touched his oakleaf - silver now, instead of bronze - reflexively. Alyss squeezed his hand and smiled.

**"It's our symbol," his teacher had explained as he handed it to him after the events at the castle. "The Ranger's equivalent of a coat of arms."**

**Then he fumbled inside his own collar and produced an identically shaped oak leaf, on a chain around his neck. The shape was identical, but the color was different. The oak leaf Halt wore was made of silver.**

**"Bronze is the apprentice color," Halt told him. "When you finish your learning, you'll receive a silver oakleaf like this one. We all wear them in the Ranger Corps, either silver or bronze." He looked away from the boy for a few minutes, then added, his voice a little husky,**

One of Sir Rodney's impressively bushy eyebrows shot up in Halt's direction.

Halt ignored him with the ease that comes of long practice.

**"Strictly speaking, you shouldn't receive it until you've passed your first assessment. But I doubt anyone will argue about it, the way things turned out."**

"If Halt says it, it usually happens," Crowley put in.

"Can't imagine why that might be - _ow!"_ Sir Rodney yelped, scowling at Baron Arald. The slightly older man remained utterly unmoved, giving no sign that he'd just kicked his friend under the table.

**Now the curiously shaped piece of metal gleamed dully in Will's hand as he thought of the decision he'd made. It seemed so strange to him that he had voluntarily given up the one thing that he had spent most of his life hoping for: the chance to go through Battleschool and take his place as a knight in Castle Redmont's army.**

"That would have been a waste," King Duncan said softly.

"He'd have made a good knight," Sir Rodney said, jumping immediately to Will's defense.

"He makes a good Ranger," Halt growled, before being restrained by a quiet word and a gentle touch from his wife.

**He twirled the bronze oak leaf on its chain around his index finger, letting it wind right up to the finger, then spiral loose again. He sighed deeply. Life could be so complicated. Deep within himself, he felt he had made the right decision. And yet, way down deeper still, there was a tiny thread of doubt.**

**With a start, he realized that there was someone standing beside him. It was Halt, he recognized as he turned quickly. The Ranger stopped and sat beside the boy on the rough pine planking of the narrow verandah. Before them, the low sun of the late afternoon filtered through the luminous green leaves of the forest, the light seeming to dance and gyrate as the light breeze stirred the leaves.**

_"Gyrate,"_ Horace muttered. "Are we sure George didn't write this?"

Jenny looked completely innocent, and Alyss had to stifle a laugh. She knew that Jenny and George had been working together on a compilation of Will and Horace's adventures over the years - in fact, they often came to her for details unavailable to them. These books weren't exact copies - in fact, they contained several details that neither Jenny nor George had included - but she suspected they would be altered to accommodate this new information, if these particular copies didn't disappear altogether.

**"A big day," he said softly, and Will nodded.**

**"And a big decision that you made," the Ranger said, after several more minutes' silence between them. This time, Will turned to face him.**

**"Halt, did I make the right decision?" he asked finally, the anguish clear in his voice.**

_Why do you expect me to know?_ Halt grouched silently, not at all regretting his decision to never have children even if the opportunity crossed his path (which it hadn't).

**Halt placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward a little, squinting into the dappled glare through the trees.**

Gilan paused and squinted at that sentence. "Squinting...into the dappled glare...through the trees?" he repeated slowly. "I think this might be a typo."

"Technically speaking, that sentence is correct," Alyss said, her chin resting in one hand, "although the wording is rather clunky."

Will beamed at his wife.

**"As far as I'm concerned, yes. I chose you as an apprentice and I can see all the potential you have in that role. I've even come to almost enjoy having you around and getting under my feet," he added, with the barest hint of a smile.**

"The world must be -"

"- ending, yes, we know, Rodney, thank you," Halt interrupted irritably. "That joke was no more amusing the first hundred times you told it."

**"But my feelings, my wishes, aren't important in this. The right decision for you is the one you want most."**

**"I always wanted to become a knight," Will said, then realized, with a sense of surprise, that he'd phrased the statement in the past tense. And yet he knew that a part of him still wanted it.**

**"If you can sum it up in one thought, what's the main reason you feel a little disappointed that you refused the Baron's offer?" Halt continued.**

**Will considered the question. "I guess…" he said slowly, "I feel that by turning down Battleschool, I'm somehow letting my father down."**

Sir Rodney shook his head sadly. People who based their lives on what their parents would have wanted were rarely happy in their own right.

**Halt's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Your father?" he repeated, and Will nodded.**

**"He was a might warrior," he told the Ranger. "A knight. He died at Hackham Heath, fighting the Wargals - a hero."**

Will winced. Alyss squeezed his hand reassuringly.

**"You know all this, do you?" Halt asked him, and Will nodded again.**

"That should have been my first clue, really," Will said ruefully.

Alyss smacked him lightly on the arm. "Hush, Will. It's all right to have misconceptions, you know."

"As long as it doesn't turn into denial," Cassandra added.

**This was the dream that had sustained him through the long, lonely years of never knowing who he was or what he was meant to be.**

"Someone who puts rabbits in courtrooms," Sir Rodney said bluntly.

"In spring," Lady Pauline added with a hint of a smile.

**The dream had become reality for him now.**

**"He was a man any son would be proud of," he said finally, and Halt nodded.**

"That's certainly true," Halt said softly.

**"That's certainly true."**

**There was something in his voice that made Will hesitate. Halt wasn't simply agreeing out of politeness.**

"I don't know if you've noticed, Will," Crowley began, perfectly solemn, "but Halt doesn't really do politeness."

"I was young and naive," Will retorted dryly.

"I'll say," King Duncan muttered.

**Will turned quickly to him, realizing the full implications of the Ranger's words.**

**"You knew him, Halt? You knew my father?"**

_"Knew_ is a strong word," Halt grumbled.

"That's not what you said then," Will countered good-naturedly, smiling to take the sting out of his words.

"You were a fifteen year old apprentice with less than a year's training," Halt shot back.

Will conceded the point.

**There was a light of hope in the boy's eyes and the Ranger nodded soberly.**

**"Yes. I did. I didn't know him for long. But I think I could say I knew him well. And you're right. You can be extremely proud of him."**

**"He was a mighty warrior, wasn't he?" said Will.**

**"He was a soldier," Halt agreed, "and a brave fighter."**

**"I knew it!" Will said happily. "He was a great knight!"**

"I think I would have remembered someone like that," Sir Rodney said thoughtfully.

Halt shook his head. "You wouldn't have. He was from a different fief."

**"A sergeant," Halt said softly, not unkindly.**

**Will's jaw hung open, the next words he had been about to say frozen in his throat. Finally, he managed, in a confused voice:**

**"A sergeant?"**

**Halt nodded. He could see the disappointment in the boy's eyes and he put an arm around his shoulders.**

**"Don't judge a man's quality by his position in life, Will."**

A noise that sounded suspiciously like _'Morgarath'_ came suddenly from the side of the table. When the others looked over, the noticed Sir Rodney recovering from a coughing fit.

"Sorry," he said innocently. "There must have been something stuck in my throat."

**"Your father, Daniel, was a loyal and brave soldier. He didn't have the opportunity to go to Battleschool because he began life as a farmer. But if he had, he would have been one of the greatest knights."**

**"But he…" the boy began sadly. The Ranger stopped him, continuing in that same kind, soft, compelling voice.**

Crowley raised an eyebrow. _Kind_ and _soft_ were not words usually associated with Halt. Compelling, yes. Kind and soft, not so much.

**"Because without taking any of the vows or the special training that knights have, he lived up to the highest ideals of knighthood and chivalry and valor. It was actually a few days after the battle at Hackham Heath, while Morgarath and his Wargals were fighting their way back to Three Step Pass. A sudden counterattack took us by surprise and your father saw a comrade surrounded by a troop of Wargals. The man was on the ground and was within a second of being cut to pieces when your father took a hand."**

Gilan leaned forward, sensing a story.

**The light in the boy's eyes had begin to shine again.**

**"He did?" Will asked, his lips just framing the words, and Halt nodded.**

**"He did. He left the safety of the battle line and leaped forward, armed only with a spear. He stood over his injured comrade and protected him from the Wargals. He killed one with the spear, then another smashed the head of the spear, leaving Daniel with only a spear shaft. So he used it like a quarterstaff and knocked down two others - left, right! Just like that!"**

"He would have been an amazing knight," Horace said quietly.

"One of the best," Sir Rodney agreed.

Will smiled at the table, and Alyss squeezed his hand again.

**He flicked his hand to left and right to demonstrate. Will's eyes were intent on him now, seeing the battle as the Ranger described it.**

**"He was wounded then, as the spear shaft broke under another attack. It would have killed most men. But he simply took the sword from one of the Wargals he'd killed and struck down three more, all the time bleeding from a massive wound in his side."**

**"Three of them?" Will asked.**

**"Three. He had the speed of a leopard. And remember, as a spearman, he had never really trained with the sword."**

Jenny turned to Gilan with a question on her lips.

"It's a huge cat," he answered softly. "They live in a few parts of Arridia."

**He paused, remembering that day so long ago.**

**"You know, of course, that there is almost nothing that Wargals fear? They're called the Unminded Ones, and once they begin a battle, they always finish it.**

**"Well," he amended, "almost always. This was the only time I saw Wargals afraid. As your father struck out to either side, still standing over his wounded comrade, they began to back away, slowly at first. Then they ran. They simply turned and ran."**

"That's amazing," Cassandra said softly. King Duncan's gaze flickered briefly towards his daughter, and a shadow passed momentarily over his face.

**"I have never seen any other man, no knight, no mighty warrior, who could send Wargals running in fear. Your father did. He may have been a sergeant, Will, but he was the mightiest warrior I ever had the privilege to watch. Then, as the Wargals retreated, he sank down on one knee beside the man he'd been protecting, still trying to shield him, even though he knew he was dying himself."**

**"He had taken half a dozen wounds. But it was probably the first that killed him."**

"Amazing," Baron Arald agreed quietly.

**"And was his friend saved?" Will asked in a small voice.**

**Halt looked a little puzzled. "His friend?" he asked.**

**"The man he protected," Will explained. "Did he survive?" Somehow, he thought it would have been a tragedy if his father's valiant attempt had been unsuccessful.**

Lady Pauline looked swiftly at her husband. "A tragedy indeed," she murmured.

Crowley just nodded a silent agreement, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

**"They weren't friends," said Halt. "Up till that moment, he had never laid eyes on the other man." He paused, then added, "Nor I on him."**

**The significance of those last four words sank deep into Will's consciousness.**

**"You?" he whispered. "You were the man he saved?"**

"As the father, so the son," King Duncan said softly, reciting the old saying.

**Halt nodded. "As I said, I knew him for a few minutes. But he did more for me than any other man, before or since."**

Under different circumstances, Crowley might have objected to that on Pritchard's behalf. But he held his silence, unwilling to disturb the moment.

**"As he was dying, he told me of his wife, and how she was back at their farm alone, with a baby due any day. He begged me to see that she was looked after."**

**Will looked at the grim, bearded face he had grown to know so well. There was a deep sadness in Halt's eyes as he remembered that day.**

**"I was too late to save your mother. It was a difficult birth and she died shortly after you were born. But I brought you back here and Baron Arald agreed that you should be brought up in the Ward-until you were old enough to become my apprentice."**

Halt's lips thinned and he winced internally at the lie.

**"But all those years, you never…" Will stopped, lost for words. Halt smiled grimly at him.**

**"I never let on that I had placed you in the Ward? No. Think about it, Will. People are…strange about Rangers. How would they have reacted to you grew up? Wondering what sort of strange creature you were? We decided it would be better if nobody knew of my interest in you."**

**Will nodded. Halt was right, of course. Life as a ward had been difficult enough.**

Horace winced. Cassandra laced his fingers with hers and leaned her head against his shoulder.

**It would have been far more so if people had known he was somehow connected to Halt.**

**"So you took me as your apprentice because of my father?" said Will. But this time Halt shook his head.**

**"No. I made sure you were looked after because of your father. I chose you because you showed you had the abilities and the skills that were needed. And you also seemed to have inherited some of your father's courage."**

**There was a long, long silence between them as Will absorbed the story of his father's amazing battle. Somehow, the truth was more stirring, more inspiring than any fantasy he could have made up over the years to sustain himself.**

Nobody noticed the infinitesimal wince from Halt.

**Eventually, Halt stood up to go and he smiled gratefully up at the grizzled figure, now silhouetted against the sky as the last light of the day died.**

**"I think my father would be glad I chose the way I did," he said, slipping the bronze oak leaf on its chain over his head.**

"So do I," Halt said quietly.

**Halt merely nodded once, then turned away and went inside the cottage, leaving his apprentice to his own thoughts.**

**Will sat quietly for some minutes. Almost unthinkingly, his hand went to touch the bronze oakleaf symbol hanging at his throat.**

As it did now - although this time, the oakleaf was silver.

**Faintly, the evening breeze carried the sounds of the Battleschool drill yard to him, and the nonstop hammering and clanking from the armory that had been going on, night and day, for the past week. They were the sounds of Castle Redmont preparing for the coming war.**

"For all it lasted," Sir Rodney said dryly, glancing briefly at Horace, who remained oblivious.

**Yet strangely, for the first time in his life, he felt at peace.**


	35. The Burning Bridge - Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first book is complete. Cassie starts reading the second. It's going to be a fun ride.

The small group sat around the table, not entirely sure what to do with themselves now that the first book - _Ruins of Gorlan_ \- was finished. Gilan set it aside gingerly, as if he was afraid it would explode like one of Malcolm's concoctions.

"Well," he said finally, breaking the silence. "That's one down."

"Only nine more to go," Cassandra added, a wry smile twisting her lips as she reached across to the pile of as-yet-unread books and plucking the next one off the top. _"The Burning Bridge,"_ she read aloud, shivering as the events in Celtica and Skandia replayed themselves in her mind.

Will paled. "Do you think -"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Cassandra murmured, eying the cover in the same way one might eye a poisonous viper that had suddenly slithered out from the wardrobe.

Horace bit his lip, his gaze moving between his best friend and his wife. "We don't have to -"

"Yes, we do," they said in unison.

Cassandra began reading, biting her lip periodically.

**Halt and Will had been trailing the Wargals for three days. The four heavy-bodied, brutish creatures, foot soldiers of the rebel warlord Morgarath, had been sighted passing through Redmont Fief, heading north. Once word reached the Ranger, he had set out to intercept them, accompanied by his young apprentice.**

**"Where could they have come from, Halt?" Will asked during one of their short rest stops. "Surely we've got Three Step Pass well and truly bottled up by now."**

**Three Step Pass provided the only real access between the Kingdom of Araluen and the Mountains of Rain and Night, where Morgarath had his headquarters. Now that the Kingdom was preparing for the coming war with Morgarath, a company of infantry and archers had been sent to reinforce the small permanent garrison at the narrow pass until the main army could assemble.**

**"That's the only place where they can come in sizable numbers," Halt agreed. "But a small party like this could slip into the Kingdom by way of the barrier cliffs."**

King Duncan grimaced. The barrier cliffs were notoriously nasty, and the prospect of trying to cross them was...unpleasant, to say the least.

**Morgarath's domain was an inhospitable mountain plateau that towered high above the southern reaches of the Kingdom. From Three Step Pass in the east, a line of sheer, precipitous cliffs ran roughly due west, forming the border between the plateau and Araluen. As the cliffs swung south west, they plunged into another obstacle called the Fissure- a huge split in the earth that ran out to the sea, and separated Morgarath's lands from the kingdom of the Celts.**

**It was these natural fortifications that had kept Araluen, and neighboring Celtica, safe from Morgarth's armies for the past sixteen years. Conversely, they also provided the rebel warlord with protection from Araluen's forces.**

**"I thought those cliffs were impassable," Will said.**

"Nothing's ever really impassable," Gilan said.

"Thanks, Halt," Will snarked back, in much the same tone others might use to say, "Thanks, Dad."

**Halt allowed himself a grim smile. "Nowhere is ever really impassable. Particularly if you have no respect for how many lives you lose trying to prove the fact. My guess is that they used ropes and grapnels and waited for a moonless night and bad weather. That way, they could slip past the border patrols."**

"I assume by 'bad weather' you mean clouds," Arald said, leaning forward on his elbows. "Any rain or snow would have just made the crossing harder."

Halt grunted. "Be as that may, it also would have obscured the vision of anyone unfortunate enough to be around that area. And Morgarath doesn't care about lives."

**He stood, signifying that their rest stop was at an end. Will rose with him and they moved toward their horses. Halt gave a small grunt as he swung into the saddle. The wound he had suffered in the battle with the two Kalkara still troubled him a little.**

Lady Pauline's lips had thinned into a stiff, angry line, and Crowley's fists were clenched so tight that anything he might have been holding would have been pulverized.

**"My main concern isn't where they came from," he continued. "It's where they're heading, and what they have in mind."**

**The words were barely spoken when they heard a shout from somewhere ahead of them, followed by a commotion of grunting and, finally the clash of weapons.**

"That's...convenient," Baron Arald said slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"It was very much so, yes," Halt sighed.

**"And we may be about to find out," Halt finished.**

**He urged Abelard into a gallop, controlling the horse with his knees as his hands effortlessly selected and arrow and nocked it to the string of his massive longbow. Will scrambled into Tug's saddle and galloped after him. He couldn't match Halt's hands-free riding skill. He needed his right hand for the reins as he held his own bow ready in his left.**

Will grimaced. His hands-free riding was still a sticking point - he'd never been as good at he tried to be.

**They were riding through sparse woodland, leaving it to the surefooted Ranger horses to pick the best route. Suddenly, they burst clear of the trees into a wide meadow. Abelard, under his rider's urging, slid to a stop, Tug following suit beside him. Dropping the reins to Tug's neck, Will instinctively reached for an arrow from his quiver and nocked it ready. A large fig tree grew in the middle of the cleared ground. At the base of it was a small camp. A wisp of smoke still curled from the fireplace and a pack and blanket roll lay beside it. The four Wargals they had been tracking surrounded a single man, who had his back to the tree. For the moment his long sword held them at bay, but the Wargals were making small feinting movements toward him, trying to find an advantage. They were armed with short swords and axes and one carried a heavy iron spear.**

"Iron," Sir Rodney murmured, a small frown creasing his forehead. "Strange. I would have thought Morgarath would have tried to arm his troops with steel." Iron bent and dulled too easily to make a practical weapon for combat.

"Maybe he couldn't get steel in the mountains," Horace suggested.

"Maybe," Sir Rodney said absently, unconvinced.

**Will drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the creatures. After following their trail for so long, it was a shock to come upon them so suddenly in plain sight. Bearlike in build, they had long muzzles and massive yellow canine fangs, exposed now as they snarled at their prey. They were covered in shaggy fur and wore black leather armor. The man was dressed similarly and his voice cracked in fear as he repelled their tentative attacks.**

**"Stand back! I'm on a mission for Lord Morgrath. Stand back, I order you! I order you in Lord Morgarath's name!"**

Halt snorted uncharitably.

**Halt nudged Abelard around, allowing him room to draw the arrow he had ready on the string.**

**"Drop your weapons! All of you!" he shouted.**

Crowley turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised. "Did you really think that would work?" he asked skeptically.

**Five pairs of eyes swung toward him as the four Wargals and their prey turned in surprise.**

"I thought it might surprise them," Halt responded, raising an eyebrow of his own.

King Duncan rolled his eyes fondly.

**The Wargal with the spear recovered first. Realizing that the swordsman was distracted, he darted forward and ran the spear into his body. A second later, Halt's arrow buried itself in the Wargal's heart and he fell dead beside his stricken prey. As the swordsman sank to his knees, the other Wargals charged the two Rangers. Shambling and bearlike as they might be, they covered ground with incredible speed.**

Cassandra's voice faltered slightly on the last sentence, and Horace wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She leaned into him gratefully, her voice regaining its typical strength as she read on.

**Halt's second shot dropped the left-hand Wargal. Will fired at the one on the right and realized instantly that he had misjudged the creature's speed. The arrow hissed through the space where the Wargal had been a second before. His hand flew to his quiver for another arrow and he heard a hoarse grunt of pain as Halt's third shot buried itself in the chest of the middle creature. Then Will loosed his second arrow at the surviving Wargal, now terrifyingly close.**

**Panicked by those savage eyes and yellow fangs, he snatched as he released the arrow and knew it would fly wide.**

Alyss bit her lip worriedly.

**As the Wargal snarled in triumph, Tug came to his master's aid. The little horse reared and lashed out with his front hooves at the horrific creature in front of him. Unexpectedly, he also danced forward a few steps, toward the threat, rather than retreating. Will, caught by surprise, clung to the pommel of the saddle.**

**The Wargal was equally surprised. Like all its kind, it had a deep-seated instinctive fear of horses - a fear born at the Battle of Hackham Heath sixteen years ago, where Morgarath's first Wargal army had been decimated by Araluen cavalry.**

"That word should be _annihilated,"_ Lady Pauline said delicately. _"Decimated_ implies only one in ten Wargals were killed."

**It hesitated now for a fatal second, stepping back before those flashing hooves.**

**Halt's fourth arrow took it in the throat, and with a final grunting shriek, the Wargal fell dead on the grass.**

The tension around the table released as shoulders slumped and anxious fingers ceased their tapping.

**White-faced, Will slid to the ground, his knees nearly giving way beneath him. He clung to Tug's side to stay upright. Halt swung down quickly and moved to the boy's side. his arm going around him.**

**"It's all right, Will." His deep voice cut through the fear that filled Will's mind. "It's over now."**

**But Will shook his head, horrified by the rapid train of events.**

**"Halt, I missed…twice! I panicked and I missed!"**

"You shot," Gilan pointed out. "That's more than most manage to do in their first fight."

Will just grunted in response, not meeting anyone's eyes.

**He felt a deep sense of shame that he had let his teacher down so badly. Halt's arm tightened around him and he looked up at the bearded face and the dark, deep-set eyes.**

**"There's a big difference between shooting at a target and shooting at a charging Wargal. A target isn't usually trying to kill you." Halt added the last few words in a more gentle tone. He could see that Will was in shock. And no wonder, he thought grimly.**

**"But…I missed.."**

**"And next time you won't. Now you know it's better to fire one good shot than two hurried ones," Halt said firmly. Then he took Will's arm and turned him toward the campsite under the fig tree. "Let's see what we have here," he said, putting an end to the subject.**

**The black-clad man and the Wargal lay dead beside one another. Halt knelt beside the man and turned him over, whistling softly in surprise.**

**"Dirk Reacher," he said, half to himself. "He's the last person I would have expected to see here."**

"Really?" Crowley asked innocently. "The _last_ person? The _very_ l -"

"Crowley..." Halt growled.

Stifling laughter, Cassandra hurried to continue reading.

**"You know him?" Will asked. His insatiable curiosity was already helping him to put the horror of the previous few minutes to one side, as Halt had known it would.**

Will flushed even as a slight smile crossed his face.

**"I chased him out of the kingdom five or six years ago," the Ranger told him. "He was a coward and a murderer. He deserted from the army and found a place with Morgarath." He paused. "Morgarath seems to specialize in recruiting people like him. But what was he doing here…?"**

"Something about a mission for Morgarath," Gilan recalled, tilting his head and studying it.

Jenny frowned. "But the Wargals were after him. Doesn't Morgarath control them?"

**"He said he was on a mission for Morgarath," Will suggested, but Halt shook his head.**

**"Unlikely. The Wargals were chasing him and only Morgarath could have ordered them to do that, which he'd hardly do if Reacher really was working for him. My guess is that he was deserting again. He'd run out on Morgarath and the Wargals were sent after him."**

**"Why?" Will asked. "Why desert?"**

**Halt shrugged. "There's a war coming. People like Dirk try to avoid that sort of unpleasantness."**

_'Unpleasantness,'_ Horace mouthed, making air quotes. Cassandra snickered.

**He reached for the pack that lay by the campfire and began to rummage through it.**

**"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Will asked. Halt frowned as he grew tired of looking though the pack and dumped its contents onto the ground instead.**

Crowley didn't even bother trying to hide his laughter.

**"Well, it strikes me that if he were deserting Morgarath and coming back to Araluen, he'd have to bring something to bargain for his freedom. So…" His voice died away as he reached for a carefully folded parchment among the spare clothes and eating utensils. He scanned it quickly. One eyebrow rose slightly.**

"The world must be ending," Crowley deadpanned.

"We've made that joke already," Baron Arald reminded him, completely unimpressed.

**After almost a year with the grizzled Ranger, Will knew that was the equivalent of a shout of astonishment. He also knew that if he interrupted Halt before he had finished reading, his mentor would simply ignore him.**

"If only that worked all the time," Halt mourned.

**He waited until Halt folded the parchment, stood slowly and looked at his apprentice, seeing the question in the boy's eyes.**

**"Is it important?" Will asked.**

"What do you think?" Halt said sarcastically.

"Well, _I_ don't know," Will said innocently. "I was only an apprentice. I wasn't ready to think."

It took several minutes for Gilan to stop laughing.

"It wasn't _that_ funny!" Halt barked irritably.

"Yes it was!" Gilan howled, nearly falling out of his chair.

Cassandra's eyes were wide with suppressed laughter, and her voice shook with mirth as she finished the chapter.

**"Oh, you could say so," Halt told him. "We appear to have stumbled on Morgarath's battle plans for the coming war. I think we'd better get back to Redmont."**

**He whistled softly and Abelard and Tug trotted to where their masters waited.**

**From the trees several hundred meters away, carefully down-wind so that the Ranger horse would catch no scent of an intruder, unfriendly eyes were upon them. Their owner watched as the two Rangers rode away from the scene of the small battle. Then he turned south, towards the cliffs. It was time to report to Morgarath. His plan had been successful.**

King Duncan swore, his words bitter but quiet. If it hadn't been for Will and Horace...if Cassandra hadn't gone to visit King Swynned's court...

Araluen as a whole had been very, _very_ lucky.


	36. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyss reads Chapter 1 of The Burning Bridge. Crowley is an ass.

Cassandra passed the book across the table to Alyss, who picked it up and began reading.

 **It was close to midnight when the single rider reined in his horse outside the small cottage set in the trees below Castle Redmont. The laden pack pony trailing behind the saddle horse ambled to a halt as well. The rider, a tall man who moved with the easy grace of youth, swung down from the saddle and stepped up onto the narrow verandah** \- Crowley managed to muffle his snickers this time **\- stooping to avoid the low-lying eaves. From the lean-to stable at the side of the house came the sound of a gentle nickering and his own horse's head rose as he answered the greeting.**

Gilan _harrumphed_ good-naturedly at this.

**The rider had raised his fist to knock at the door when he saw a light come on behind the curtained windows. He hesitated. The light moved across the room and, a second or so later, the door opened before him.**

"You were sitting up," Gilan accused. "That's _cheating."_

"That's _good tactics,"_ Halt corrected, one eyebrow arching.

**"Gilan," Halt said, without any note of surprise in his voice.**

"Of course not," Sir Rodney sighed.

**"What are you doing here?"**

**The young Ranger laughed incredulously as he faced his former teacher. "How do you do it, Halt?" he asked. "How could you possibly know it was me arriving in the middle of the night, before you'd even opened the door?"**

"Would you like me to explain now, or later?" Halt offered innocently.

Gilan mumbled something under his breath that made Jenny's heel hit his shin.

**Halt shrugged, gesturing for Gilan to enter the house. He closed the door behind him and moved to the neat little kitchen, opening the damping vent on the stove and sending new life flaring into the wood coals inside. He tossed a handful of kindling into the stove and set a copper kettle on the hot plate over the fire chamber, shaking it first to make sure there was plenty of water in it.**

**"I heard your horse some minutes ago," he finally said. "Then, when I heard Abelard call a greeting I knew it had to be a Ranger horse." He shrugged again. Simple when you explained it, the gesture said. Gilan laughed again in reply.**

"You do laugh a lot," Will noted.

"Too much," Halt grumbled.

"Only for a gray old raincloud like you," Gilan returned, a grin forming on his face.

**"Well, that narrowed it down to fifty people, didn't it?" he said. Halt cocked his head to one side with a pitying look.**

**"Gilan, I must have heard you stumbling up that front step a thousand times when you were studying with me," he said. "Give me credit for recognizing that sound once more."**

**The younger Ranger spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. He unclasped his cloak and hung it over the back of a chair, moving a little closer to the stove. It was a chilly night and he watched Halt measuring coffee into a pot with some anticipation. The door to the rear room of the house opened and Will entered the small living room, his clothes pulled on hastily over is night shirt, his hair from sleep.**

**"Evening, Gilan," he said casually. "What brings you here?"**

"God help us, there's _two_ of them," Crowley grumbled.

Halt scowled at the Commandant. "If you don't want them to act like me, don't give them to me to train," he shot back - never mind that it was _Halt's_ idea to take Will on in the first place.

"At least Gilan turned out all right, but Will? No, he's a lost cause." Crowley's face was threatening to split into a grin, but his voice was just as weary and bitter as the first time he'd spoken.

Will made an indignant noise at the slight to his personal worth, and that was the last straw. Laughter bubbled up in Crowley's throat and spilled over his lips until he was cackling freely.

"You are _terrible,"_ Halt grumbled, only half-referring to his lighthearted slight towards Will.

"It's a gift," Crowley giggled.

Rolling her eyes and hiding a smile, Alyss continued reading.

**Gilan looked from one to the other in something like despair.**

**"Isn't anybody surprised when I turn up in the middle of the night?" he asked, of no one in particular. Halt, busy by the stove, turned away to hide a grin. A few minutes earlier, he'd heard Will moving hurriedly to the window as the horses drew closer to the cottage. Obviously his apprentice had overheard Halt's exchange with Gilan and was doing his best to emulate his own casual approach to the unexpected arrival. However, knowing Will as he did, Halt was sure that the boy was burring with curiosity over the reason for Gilan's sudden appearance.**

"Was it that obvious?" Will grimaced.

"Might as well have been a Wargal in a stable," Halt replied.

**"It's late, Will," he said. "You may as well go back to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow."**

**Instantly, Will's nonchalant expression was replaced by a stricken look. The suggestion from his master was tantamount to an order. All thought of appearing casual departed instantly.**

**"Oh, please, Halt!" the boy exclaimed. "I want to know what's going on!"**

**Halt and Gilan exchanged a quick grin. Will was actually hopping from one foot to another as he waited for Halt to rescind the suggestion that he should go to bed.**

Jenny hid a giggle behind her hands at the mental image of Will doing such a thing.

**The grizzled Ranger kept a straight face as he set three steaming mugs of coffee on the kitchen table.**

**"Just as well I made three cups then, isn't it?" he said and Will realized that he'd been having his leg pulled.**

Horace snorted.

"Oh, like you would have fared any better," Will griped good-naturedly, a grin flitting briefly across his face.

**He shrugged, grinning, and sat down with his two seniors.**

**"Very well, Gilan, before my apprentice explodes with curiosity, what is the reason for this unexpected visit?"**

**"Well, I has to do with those battle plans you discovered last week. Now that we know what Morgarath has in mind, the King wants the army ready on the Plains of Uthal before the dark of the next moon. That's when Morgarath plans to break out through Three Step Pass."**

**The captured document had told them a great deal. Morgarath's plan called for five hundred Skandian mercenaries to make their way through the swamps of the fenlands and attack the Araluen garrison at Three Step Pass. With the Pass undefended, Morgarath's main army of Wargals would be able to break out and deploy into battle order on the Plains.**

**"So Duncan plans to beat him to the punch," Halt said, nodding slowly. "Good thinking. That way we control the battlefield."**

**Will nodded in his turn and said in a equally grave voice, "And we'll keep Morgarath's army bottled up in the Pass."**

Crowley's badly muffled snort was far, _far_ to obvious to be anything but deliberate.

**Gilan turned slightly to hide a grin. He wondered if he had tried to copy Halt's mannerisms when he was an apprentice, and decided that he probably had.**

"You did," Baron Arald confirmed. Dismayed, Gilan turned to Crowley beseechingly, only to be met with a shrug.

"It's true. Turning to me won't change that."

**"On the contrary," he said, "once the army's in place, Duncan plans to withdraw the garrison, then fall back to prepared positions and let Morgarath out onto the Plains."**

**"Let him out?" Will's voice went up in pitch with surprise. "Is the King crazy? Why would…"**

The King in question was currently staring at Will with a perfectly arched eyebrow.

Will, meanwhile, was trying to disappear beneath the table. Without looking over or breaking stride in her reading, Alyss reached over, and hauled her husband back into his chair by the hood of his cloak.

**He realized that both Rangers were looking at him, Halt with one eyebrow raised and Gilan with a quizzical smile playing at the corners of his mouth.**

**"I mean…" He hesitated, not sure if questioning the King's sanity might constitute treason.**

"Only in public," Halt deadpanned.

Crowley groaned. "You took five years off my life with that little stunt," he accused, jabbing a finger in Halt's direction.

**"No offense or anything like that. It's just-"**

**"Oh, I'm sure the King wouldn't be offended to hear that a lowly apprentice Ranger thought he was crazy," said Halt. "Kings usually love to hear that sort of thing."**

Under Halt's menacing glare, nobody said a word. A few people actually held their breath.

**"But Halt…to let him out, after all these years? It seems…" He was about to say "crazy" again, but thought better of it. He thought suddenly of his recent encounter with the Wargals. The idea of thousands of those vile beasts streaming unopposed out of the Pass made his blood run cold.**

A shiver ran up Cassandra's spine at the notion.

**It was Halt who answered first. "That's just the point, Will - after all these years. We've spent sixteen years looking over our shoulders at Morgarath, wondering what he's up to. In that time, we've had many of our forces tied up patrolling the base of the cliffs and keeping watch over Three Step. And he's been free to strike at us any time he likes. The Kalkara were the latest example, as you know only too well."**

**Gilan glanced admiringly at his former teacher. Halt had instantly seen the reasoning behind the King's plan. Not for the first time, he understood why Halt was one of the King's most respected advisers.**

"When he's not getting drunk and slandering my good name," King Duncan added dryly.

 _"What_ good name?" Cassandra responded instantly, grinning from ear to ear.

A faint choking noise was heard from one end of the table, and Duncan sighed, a smile of his own lurking under his beard. "Oh, all right then, go ahead and laugh." It _was_ rather amusing, after all.

The table promptly did so, some (Gilan) in a deliberately obnoxious manner.

**"Halt's right, Will," he said. "And there's another reason. After sixteen years of relative peace, people are growing complacent. Not the Rangers, of course, but the village people who provide men-at-arms for our army, and even some of the barons and Battle masters in remote fiefs to the North."**

"And South," Will added, remembering the near-disaster when he'd first arrived at Seacliff.

**"You've seen for yourself how reluctant some people are to leave their farms and go to war," Halt put in. Will nodded. He and Halt had spent the past week traveling to outlying villages in Redmont Fief to raise the levies of men who would make up the bulk of the army. On more than one occasion, they had been met with outright hostility - hostility that melted away as Halt exerted the full force of his personality and reputation.**

"That must have been a show," Horace said enviously, wishing he'd been there to witness it.

"It was," Will said, the memories bringing a smile to his face.

**"As far as King Duncan is concerned, now is the time to settle this," Gilan continued. "We're as strong as we'll ever be and any delay will only weaken us. This is the best opportunity we'll have to get rid of Morgarath once and for all."**

**"All of which still begs my original question," Halt said. "What brings you here in the middle of the night?"**

**"Orders from Crowley," Gilan said crisply.**

"Of course," Halt said with a heavy (exaggerated) sigh.

**He placed a written dispatch on the table and Halt, after an inquiring look at Gilan, unrolled it and read it.**

**"So you're taking dispatches to King Swyddned of the Celts," he said. "I assume you're invoking the mutual defense treaty that Duncan signed with him some years ago."**

"For all the good it did us," Horace muttered.

"To be fair, they did keep some of Morgarath's forces tied up in the southern end of their country," Sir Rodney pointed out mildly. "It's not much, mind you, but it's something."

**Gilan nodded, sipping appreciatively at the fragrant coffee. "The King feels we're going to need all the troops we can muster."**

**Halt nodded thoughtfully. "I can't fault his thinking there," he said softly. "But…?" He spread his hands in a questioning gesture. If Gilan were taking dispatches to Celtica, the sooner he got on with it the better, the gesture seemed to say.**

**"Well," said Gilan, "It's an official embassy to Celtica." He laid a little stress on the last word and suddenly Halt nodded his understanding.**

**"Of course," he said. "The old Celtic tradition."**

**"Superstition, more like it," Gilan answered, shaking his head. "It's a ridiculous waste of time as far as I'm concerned."**

**"Of course it is," Halt replied. "But the Celts insist on it, so what can you do?"**

**Will looked from Halt to Gilan and back again. The two Rangers seemed to understand what they were talking about. To Will, they might as well have been speaking Espanard.**

**"It's all very well in normal times," Gilan said. "But with all these preparations for war, we're stretched thin in every area. We simply don't have the people to spare. So Crowley thought…"**

**"I think I'm ahead of you," said Halt, and finally, Will could bear it no longer.**

**"Well, I'm way behind you!" he burst out. "What on earth are you two talking about? You are speaking Araluen, aren't you, and not some strange foreign tongue that just sounds like it, but makes no sense at all?"**

The table burst into laughter.

"Do you mean the language of Rangers?" Jenny asked dryly.

"You'd think I'd have picked up on it by that point," Will said mournfully, shaking his head.

"Oh, don't feel bad, Will," Gilan said, grinning. "Learning it takes thought, and you were still an apprentice."


	37. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author forgets to post her chapters, and so uploads two of them back-to-back.

Alyss offered the book to Lady Pauline. The tall, graceful woman flipped carefully through the pages of the oncoming chapter, getting a sense for any sensitive topics that might come up and formulating plans for how to smooth them over - or avert them altogether.

**Halt turned slowly to face his young apprentice, and raised his eyebrows at the outburst. Will, subsiding, muttered, "Sorry, Halt," and the older Ranger nodded.**

**"I should think so. It's more than obvious that Gilan is asking if I'll release you to accompany him to Celtica."**

"It's only obvious if you know about Celtica," Will pointed out, mock-wounded.

"Which you did," Halt reminded him lightly. "Or should have, at any rate."

**Gilan nodded confirmation of the fact and Will frowned, puzzled by the sudden turn of events. "Me?" he said incredulously. "Why me? What can I do in Celtica?"**

Gilan groaned. "Here we go."

**The moment the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. He should have learned by now never to give Halt that sort of opening.**

"And yet..."

"Oh, shut up Gilan."

**Halt pursed his lips as he considered the question.**

**"Ask interminable questions, interrupt your betters and forget to do your chores, I suppose. The real question is, Can you be spared from duty here? And the answer to that is 'Definitely'."**

**"Then why…" Will gave up. They would either explain or they wouldn't. And no amount of asking would make Halt deliver that explanation a second sooner than he chose to. In fact, he was beginning to think that the more questions he asked, the more Halt actually enjoyed keeping him dangling.**

"I can't imagine why that might be," Halt said innocently, steepling his fingers in front of him and hiding a smirk.

**It was Gilan who took pity on him, perhaps remembering how closemouthed Halt could be when he chose.**

"He's impossible," Gilan mourned, shaking his head.

**"I need you to make up the numbers, Will," he said. "Traditionally the Celts insist that an official embassy be made up of three people. And to be honest, Halt's right. You're one who can be spared from the main effort here in Araluen." He grinned a little ruefully. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been given the mission because I'm the most junior Ranger in the Corps."**

Gilan pouted in Crowley's direction. The Commandant was unrepentant. "Someone had to do it," he said shortly.

**"But why three people?" Will asked, seeing that Gilan at least seemed disposed to answer questions.**

_Someone_ coughed pointedly in Halt's direction. Halt ignored them completely.

**"Can't one deliver the message?"**

**Gilan sighed. "As we were saying, it's a superstition among the Celts. It goes back to the old days of the Celtic Council, when the Celts, the Scotti and the Hibernians were one alliance. They were ruled by a triumvirate."**

**"The point is," Halt interrupted, "of course Gilan can take the message to them. But if he's a sole messenger, they'll keep him waiting and fob him off for days, or even weeks, while they dither over form and protocol. And we don't have that sort of time to waste. There's an old Celtic saying that covers it: One man may be deceit. Two can be conspiracy. Three is the number I trust."**

"They may have a point," King Duncan pointed out, inclining his head towards Horace, Halt, and Will each.

**"So you're sending me because you can do without me?" Will said, somewhat insulted by the thought.**

"Yes," Halt said bluntly.

**Halt shrugged. "Well, we can, as a matter of fact. But you can't send just anyone on these embassies. The three members have to have some sort of official status or position in the world. They can't be simple men-at-arms, for example."**

"However much easier that would make it," Crowley muttered. He had little patience for superstitions of any sort - particularly when they got in the way.

**"And you, Will," Gilan added, "are a member of the Ranger Corps. That will carry a certain amount of weight with the Celts."**

**"I'm only an apprentice," Will said, and was surprised when both men shook their heads in disagreement.**

**"You wear the oak leaf," Halt told him firmly. "Bronze or silver, it doesn't matter. You're one of us."**

Will beamed.

**Will brightened visibly at his teacher's statement. "Well," he said, "when you put it like that, I'd be delighted to join you, Gilan."**

**Halt regarded him dryly. It was obviously time for the ego-stroking to end. Deliberately, he turned to Gilan.**

**"So," he said, "can you think of anyone else who's totally unnecessary to be the third member?"**

"Thanks, Halt," Horace said, grinning.

Halt merely grunted. "Back then, you were unnecessary. And then you went and became important and made my life complicated, like the fool knight you are."

**Gilan shrugged, smiling as he saw Will subside. "That's the other reason Crowley sent me here," he said. "Since Redmont is one of the larger fiefs, he thought you might be able to spare someone else from here. Any suggestions?"**

**Halt rubbed his chin thoughtfully, an idea forming. "I think we might have just the person you need," he said. He turned to Will. "Perhaps you'd better get some sleep. I'll give Gilan a hand with the horses and then we'll go up to the castle."**

**Will nodded. Now that Halt mentioned sleep, he felt an irresistible urge to yawn.**

"Sorcery and witchcraft," Will muttered.

**He rose and headed for his small room.**

**"See you in the morning, Gilan."**

**"Bright and early." Gilan smiled, and Will rolled his eyes in mock horror.**

**"I knew you'd say that," he replied.**

"And here I thought you Rangers loved to get up at some ungodly hour," Horace mused.

Gilan laughed. "Only when you're around, Horace."

**Halt and Gilan bedded the two horses down and strolled through the fields toward Castle Redmont in companionable silence. Gilan, attuned to his old teacher's ways, sensed that Halt had something he wanted to discuss, and before too long the older Ranger broke the silence.**

**"This embassy to Celtica could be just what Will needs," he said. "I'm a little worried about him."**

The man in question winced a little.

**Gilan frowned. He liked the irrepressible young apprentice. "What's the problem?" he asked.**

**"He had a bad time of it when we ran into those Wargals last week," Halt said. "He thinks he's lost his nerve."**

**"And has he?"**

**Halt shook his head decisively. "Of course not."**

Alyss smacked her husband lightly on the arm. "You see? I told you that you were being ridiculous!"

**"He's got more courage than most grown men. But when the Wargals charged us, he rushed his shot and missed."**

**Gilan shrugged. "No shame in that, is there? After all, he's not yet sixteen. He didn't run, I take it?"**

**"No. Not at all. He stood his ground. Even got another shot away. Then Tug took a hand and backed the Wargal off so I could finish it. He's a good horse, that one."**

"The best," Will said proudly - then, when Halt coughed pointedly, he added, "Tied with Abelard, of course."

Crowley let the comment slide. Gilan, however, began making plans to challenge his friend to a little competition that would settle the matter once and for all.  
(He would lose, of course, but that's a different tale).

**"He has a good master," Gilan said, and Halt nodded.**

**"That's true. Still, I think a few weeks away from all of these war preparations will be good for the boy. It might get his mind off his troubles if he spends some time with you and Horace."**

**"Horace?" Gilan asked.**

**"He's the third member I'm suggesting. One of the Battleschool apprentices and a friend of Will's." Halt thought for a few moments, then nodded to himself.**

**"Yes. A few weeks with people closer to his own age will do him good. After all, folk do say I can be a little grim from time to time."**

"A little," Crowley repeated, perfectly deadpan.

"From time to time?" Baron Arald echoed incredulously.

**"You, Halt? Grim? Who could say such a thing?" Gilan asked. Halt glanced at him suspiciously. Gilan was, all too obviously, just managing to keep a straight face.**

**"You know, Gilan," he said, "sarcasm isn't the lowest form of wit. It's not even wit at all."**

"And yet you are so fond of it," Sir Rodney jabbed, grinning broadly under his mustache. Halt glared.

**Even though it was after midnight, the lights were still burning in Baron Arald's office when Halt and Gilan reached the castle. The Baron and Sir Rodney had a lot of planning to do, preparing for the march to the Plains of Uthal, where they would join the Kingdom's army. When Halt explained Gilan's need, Sir Rodney was quick to see where the Ranger's thinking was headed.**

"I always said you were quick," Halt mused.

Sir Rodney snorted. "No you didn't. The first time we met, you called me - what was it, a 'mud-brained clotpole with fish-eggs stuffed in my ears'?"  
Horace nearly choked trying to hold back his laughter. Cassandra was less restrained and cackled loudly at the mental image of the short old Ranger telling off Redmont's Battlemaster like a first-year cadet.

"'Clotpole'?" Jenny repeated, puzzled.

"It's a Hibernian thing," Crowley told her, grinning as well. "Best not to ask, really."

"I wish I hadn't," Sir Rodney muttered, then glared at the smirking Baron Arald. "And thank you for your support, sir,"

"You're most welcome," the Baron said cheerfully.

"Horace?" he said to Halt.

The small, bearded Ranger nodded almost imperceptibly.

**"Yes, it's not a bad idea at all," the Battlemaster continued, pacing the room as he thought it over. "He has the sort of status you need for the task - he's a Battleschool member, even if he is only a trainee. We can spare him from the force leaving here at the end of the week and…"**   
**At this he paused and looked meaningfully at Gilan. "You might even find he's a useful person to have along."**

"If only on rare occasion," Gilan put in.

Horace laughed. "That's true enough."

"No, it isn't," Cassandra and Will corrected him simultaneously. Alyss just sighed.

**The younger Ranger looked at him curiously and Sir Rodney elaborated: "He's one of my best trainees - a real natural with a sword. He's already better than most members of the Battleschool. But he does tend to be a bit formal and inflexible in his approach to life. Perhaps an assignment with two undisciplined Rangers might teach him to loosen up a little."**

"If only I had known," Sir Rodney mourned, shaking his head. "Such a loss."

Horace made a wounded noise in his throat, but was betrayed by the grin hiding at the corners of his mouth.

**He smiled briefly, then glanced at the sword Gilan wore at his hip. It was an unusual weapon for a Ranger. "You're the one who studied with MacNeil, is that right?"**

"You don't remember me, Battlemaster? I'm hurt," Gilan gasped, clutching a hand to his heart. Jenny laughed.

**Gilan nodded. "The Sword master. Yes, that was me."**

**"Hmmm," muttered Sir Rodney, regarding the tall young Ranger with new interest. Gilan snorted as if he was offended again and Rodney chuckled, seeing the amusement in Gilan's eyes. "Well, you might see your way clear to giving Horace a few pointers while you're on the road. I'd take it as a favor and you'll find he's a quick learner."**

**"I'd be glad to," Gilan replied. He thought that he'd like to see this apprentice warrior. He knew from his time at Redmont as Halt's apprentice that Sir Rodney wasn't given to overstating praise for any of the students in the Battleschool.**

**"Well, that's settled then," Baron Arald said, anxious to get back to planning the thousand and one details of the march to Uthal. "What time will you be leaving, Gilan?"**

**"As soon after sunup as I can, sir," Gilan replied.**

**"I'll have Horace report to you before first light," Rodney told him and Gilan nodded, sensing that the meeting was over. The Baron's next words confirmed it for him.**

**"Now, if you two will excuse us, we'll get back to the relatively simple business of planning a war," he said.**

"Simple business," Duncan repeated incredulously.

Baron Arald grinned unrepentantly. "You know us, your majesty. Masters of understatement."

"To put it mildly."


	38. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 3

Lady Pauline offered the book to Jenny, who accepted it with a sunny smile and began reading.

**The sky was heavy with sullen rain clouds. Somewhere the sun may have been rising, but here there was no sign of it, just a dull gray light that filtered through the overcast and gradually, reluctantly, filed the sky.**

**As the little party crested the last ridge, leaving the massive shape of Castle Redmont behind them, the new day finally gave in to the clouds and it began to rain-a cold spring rain. It was light and misting, but persistent. At first, it ran off the riders treated woolen cloaks. But, eventually, it began to soak into the fibers. After twenty minutes or so, all three were hunched in their saddles, trying to retain as much body warmth as they could.**

**Gilan turned to his two companions as the plodded along, eyes down, hunched over their horses' necks. He smiled to himself, then addressed Horace, who was keeping a position slightly to the rear, alongside the pack pony Gilan was leading.**

"Why would you be riding back with the pack pony?" Jenny asked aghast.

In answer, Horace pointed to himself - "Battleschool apprentice" - then to Will and Gilan - "Rangers."

**"Well then, Horace," he said, "are we giving you enough adventure for the moment?"**

**Horace wiped the misting rain from his face, and grimaced ruefully.**

**"Less than I'd expected, sir," he replied.**

Halt's eyebrows shot up almost comically. "Sir?" he repeated, looking accusingly at Horace. "Gilan?"

**Gilan nodded and grinned at him.**

**"I imagine it is at that," he said. Then he added kindly: "There's no need to ride back there, you know. We Rangers don't stand on ceremony too much. Come and join us."**

Jenny looked pointedly at Horace, who shrugged.

**He nudged Blaze with his knee and the bay mare stepped out to open a gap for him. Horace eagerly urged his horse forward, to ride level with the two Rangers.**

**"Thank you, sir," he said gratefully. Gilan cocked an eyebrow at Will.**

**"Polite, isn't he?" he mused. "Obviously manners are well taught in the Battleschool these days. Nice to be called 'sir' all the time."**

**Will grinned at the jibe. Then the smile faded from his face as Gilan continued thoughtfully.**

"What did I tell you about thinking, Gilan?" Halt teased.

"That it wasn't for apprentices," Gilan replied, beaming.

**"Not a bad idea to have a bit of respect shown. Perhaps you could call me 'sir' as well," he said, turning his face away to study the tree line to one side so that Will couldn't see the faint trace of a grin that insisted on breaking through.**

"Oh, here we go," Will muttered.

**Aghast, Will choked over his answer. He couldn't believe his ears.**

**"Sir?" he said finally. "You really want me to call you 'sir', Gilan?" Then, as Gilan frowned slightly at him, he amended hurriedly and in great confusion: "I mean, sir! You want me to call you 'sir'…sir?"**

Baron Arald was struggling to hold his composure.

**Gilan shook his head. "No. I don't think 'Sir-Sir' is suitable. Nor 'Sir Gilan.' I think just the one 'sir' would do nicely, don't you?"**

"One _sir_ is usually quite enough," Crowley said dryly, glancing at Sir Rodney.

**Will couldn't think of a polite way of phrasing what was in his mind, and gestured helplessly with his hands. Gilan continued.**

**"After all, it'll do nicely to keep us all remembering who's in charge of this party, won't it?"**

**Finally, Will found his voice. "Well, I suppose it will, Gil…I mean, sir." He shook his head, surprised at this sudden demand for formality from his friend. He rode in silence for a few minutes, then heard an explosive sneezing sound from beside him as Horace tried, unsuccessfully, to smother his giggling.**

"Thank you for your support, Horace," Will said dryly.

Horace grinned. "You're welcome."

**Will glared at him, then turned suspiciously to Gilan.**

**The young Ranger was grinning all over his face as he eyed the apprentice. He shook his head in mock sorrow.**

**"Joking, Will. Joking."**

**Will realized his leg was being pulled again, and this time with Horace's full knowledge.**

"Some friend you are," Will grumbled. Horace merely chuckled.

**"I knew that," he replied huffily. Horace laughed out loud and this time, Gilan joined in.**

**They traveled south all day, finally making camp in the first line of foothills on the road to Celtica. Around mid afternoon, the rain had slowly begun to peter out, but the ground around them was still sodden.**

**They searched under the thickest-foliaged**

"Thickest-foliaged?" Alyss repeated incredulously.

Jenny glanced down at the book and shrugged. "That's what it says," she confirmed, with an air of bemusement.

Alyss snorted. Lady Pauline merely raised an eyebrow.

**trees for dry, dead wood, and gradually collected enough for a small campfire. Gilan joined in with the two apprentices, sharing the work among the three of them, and they ate their meal in an atmosphere of friendship and shared experience.**

**Horace, however, was still a little in awe of the tall young Ranger. Will eventually realized that, by teasing him, Gilan was doing his best to set Horace at ease, making sure that he didn't feel left out. Will found himself warming to Halt's former apprentice even more than before. He reflected thoughtfully that he still had a lot to learn about managing people.**

"That never was one of your great skills," Halt reflected, conveniently ignoring the band of archers Will had taught in Skandia.

Will, who was well aware of this, merely grinned.

**He knew that he faced at least another four years' training before he finished his apprenticeship. Then, he supposed, he'd be expected to carry out clandestine missions, gather intelligence about the Kingdom's enemies and perhaps lead elements of the army, just as Halt did.**

"Only when we can't find anyone else," King Duncan put in, with a straight face.

Halt inclined his head ever so slightly. "It's an honor to be considered, your majesty," he said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Crowley snorted loudly.

**The thought that one day he would have to depend on his own wits and skill was a daunting one.**

"You do just fine," Halt asserted.

Will beamed.

**He sighed. Sometimes, it seemed that life was determined to be confusing. Less than a year ago, he had been a nameless, unknown orphan in Castle Redmont's Ward. Since then, he had begun to learn the skills of a Ranger, and basked in the admiration and praise of everyone at Redmont Fief when he helped the Baron, Sir Rodney and Halt defeat the Kalkara.**

"Get used to it," Halt muttered sourly.

**He glanced across at Horace, the childhood enemy who had become his friend, and wondered if he felt the same bewildering conflict of emotions. The memory of their days in the Ward together reminded him of his other friends- George, Jenny and Alyss, now apprenticed to their own Craftmasters. He wished he'd had time to say good-bye to them before leaving for Celtica. Particularly Alyss. He shifted uncomfortably as he thought of her. Alyss had kissed him after his homecoming dinner at the inn and he still remembered the soft touch of her lips.**

**Yes, he thought, particularly Alyss.**

A knowing chuckle rippled across the table. Horace was biting hard on his cheek to keep from smirking.

**Across the campfire, Gilan observed Will through half-closed eyes. It wasn't easy being Halt's apprentice, he knew. Halt was a near-legendary figure and that laid a heavy burden on anyone apprenticed to him.**

"And rightfully so," Crowley put in, chin lifted infinitesimally in pride on his best friend's behalf.

**There was a lot to live up to. He decided that Will need a little distraction.**

**"Right!" he said, spring lithely to his feet. "Lessons!"**

**Will and Horace looked at each other.**

**"Lessons?" said Will, in a pleading tone of voice. After a day in the saddle, he was hoping more for his bedroll.**

Gilan cackled. "Hardly. I can't have you going soft on me now, can I?"

**"That's right," Gilan said cheerfully. "Even though we're on a mission, it's up to me to keep up the instruction for you two."**

**Now it was Horace's turn to be puzzled. "For me?" he asked. "Why should I be taught any Ranger skills?"**

**Gilan picked up his sword and scabbard from where they lay beside his saddle. He withdrew the slender, shining blade from his plain leather receptacle.**

"It's a _sheath,"_ Baron Arald grumbled. "It doesn't need to be fancy."

Jenny grinned, but continued to read.

**There was a faint hiss as it came free and the blade seemed to dance in the shifting firelight.**

**"Not Ranger skills, my boy. Combat skills. Heaven knows, we'll need them as sharp as possible before too long. There's a war coming, you know."**

"So I'd heard," Horace deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at Gilan.

"I was just making sure," the tall young Ranger said innocently.

**He regarded the heavyset boy before him with a critical eye. "Now, let's see what you know about that toothpick you're wearing."**

**"Oh, right!" said Horace, sounding a little more pleased about this turn of events. He never minded a little sword practice and he knew it wasn't a Ranger's skill.**

"Well, _normally_ -" Halt started, mock-scowling at Gilan, "- it's not. But Gilan always insisted on being difficult."

"Can't imagine where I got it from."

**He drew his own sword confidently and stood before Gilan, point politely lowered to the ground. Gilan stuck his own sword point-first into the soft earth, and held out his hand for Horace's.**

**"May I see that, please?" he asked. Horace nodded and handed it to Gilan, hilt-first. Gilan hefted it, tossed it lightly, then swung it experimentally a few times.**

**"See this, Will? This is what you look for in a sword."**

**Will looked at the sword, unimpressed. It looked plain to him. The blade was slightly blued steel, simple and straight. The hilt was leather wrapped around the steel tang and the crosspiece was a chunky piece of brass. He shrugged.**

Sir Rodney tsked. "Rangers."

"Rangers," Baron Arald agreed.

Crowley _harrumphed_ at them both.

**"It doesn't look special," he said apologetically, not wanting to hurt Horace's feelings.**

**"It's not how they look that counts," said Gilan. "It's how they feel. This one, for example. It's well balanced, so you can swing it all day without getting overtired, and the blade is light but strong. I've seen blades twice this thick snapped in half by a good blow from a cudgel. Fancy ones too," he added, with a smile, "with engravings and inlays and jewels."**

**"Sir Rodney says jewels in the hilt are just unnecessary weight," said Horace.**

"So you were listening," Sir Rodney teased.

Horace grinned. "Always, sir."

**Gilan nodded agreement.**

**"What's more, they tend to encourage people to attack you and rob you," he said. Then, all business again, he returned Horace's sword and took up his own.**

**"Very well, Horace, we've seen that the sword is good quality. Let's see about its owner."**

**Horace hesitated, not sure what Gilan intended.**

**"Sir?" he said awkwardly.**

**Gilan gestured to himself with his left hand. "Attack me," he said cheerfully. "Have a swing. Take a whack. Lop my head off."**

**Still Horace stood uncertainly. Gilan's sword wasn't in the guard position. He held it negligently in his right hand, the point downward. Horace made a helpless gesture.**

**"Come on, Horace," Gilan said. "Let's not wait all night. Let's see what you can do."**

**Horace put his own sword point-first into the earth.**

**"But you see, sir, I'm a trained warrior," he said. Gilan thought about this and nodded.**

"Only partially trained," Sir Rodney pointed out a little sharply.

"No, actually," King Duncan put in thoughtfully, "I think this was about as much training as he got."

**"True," he said. "But you've been training for less than a year. I shouldn't think you'll chop too much off me."**

**Horace looked to Will for support. Will could only shrug. He assumed that Gilan knew what he was doing. But he hadn't known him long, and he'd never seen him so much as draw his sword, let alone practice with it. Gilan shook his head in mock despair.**

**"Come on, Horace," he said. "I do have a vague idea what this is all about."**

**Reluctantly, Horace swung a half-hearted blow at Gilan. Obviously, he was worried that, if he should penetrate the Ranger's guard, he was not sufficiently experienced to pull the blow and avoid injuring him.**

Gilan grinned again. "Aren't you sweet?"

Horace shrugged. "I try."

Cassandra snorted.

**Gilan didn't even raise his sword to protect himself. Instead, he swayed easily to one side and Horace's blade passed harmlessly clear of him.**

**"Come on!" he said. "Do it as if you mean it!"**

**Horace took a deep breath and swung a full-blooded roundhouse stroke at Gilan. It was like poetry Will thought. Like dancing. Like the movement of running water over smooth rocks.**

"We get it," Halt grumbled. Lady Pauline elbowed him gently.

**Gilan's sword, seemingly propelled only by his fingers and wrist, swung in a flashing arc to intercept Horace's blow. There was a ring of steel and Horace stopped, surprised. The parry had jarred his hand through to the elbow. Gilan raised his eyebrows at him.**

**"That's better," he said. "Try again."**

**And Horace did. Backhands, overhead cuts, round arm swings. Each time, Gilan's sword flicked into position to block the stroke with a resounding clash. As the continued, Horace swung harder and faster. Sweat broke out on his fore head and soon his shirt was soaked. Now he had no thought of trying not to hurt Gilan.**

Gilan raised an eyebrow. "Remember I said you were sweet? I take it back."

"Sounds fair," Horace acknowledged, a tad sheepishly.

**He cut and slashed freely, trying to break through that impenetrable defense.**

**Finally, as Horace's breath was coming in ragged gasps, Gilan changed from the blocking movement that had been so effective against Horace's strongest blows. His sword clashed against Horace's, then whipped around in a small, circular motion so that his blade was on top. Then, with a slithering clash, he ran his blade down Horace's, forcing the apprentice's sword point down to the ground. As the point touched the damp earth, Gilan swiftly put one booted foot on it to hold it there.**

**"Right, that'll do," he said calmly. Yet his eyes were riveted on Horace's, making sure the boy knew that the practice session was over. Sometimes, Gilan knew, in the heat of the moment, the losing swordsman could try for just one more cut-at a time when his opponent had assumed the fight was over.**

**And then, all too often, it was.**

Sir Rodney winced at the thought, hand going unconsciously to an old scar on his bicep. He'd been lucky.

**He saw now that Horace was aware. He stepped back lightly from him, moving quickly out of the reach of the sword.**

**"Not bad," said Gilan approvingly. Horace, mortified, let his sword drop to the turf.**

**"Not bad?" he exclaimed. "It was terrible! I never once looked like…" He hesitated. Somehow, it didn't seem polite to admit that for the last three or four minutes, he'd been trying to hack Gilan's head from his shoulders.**

"And here I thought we were friends," Gilan sighed.

Jenny laughed.

**He finally managed to compromise by saying: "I never once managed to break through your guard."**

**"Well," Gilan said modestly, "I have done this sort of thing before, you know."**

**"Yes," panted Horace. "But you're a Ranger. Everyone knows Rangers don't use swords."**

"That one does," Crowley said cheerfully.

**"Apparently, this one does," said Will, grinning. Horace to his credit, smiled wearily in return.**

**"You can say that again." He turned respectfully to Gilan. "May I ask where you learned your swordsmanship, sir? I've never seen anything like it."**

**Gilan shook his head in mock reproof. "There you go again with the 'sir'," he said. Then, in answer: "My Swordmaster was an old man. A northerner named MacNeil."**

**"MacNeil!" Horace whispered in awe. "You don't mean the MacNeil? MacNeil of Bannock?"**

**Gilan nodded. "He's the one," he replied. "You've heard of him then?"**

**Horace nodded reverently. "Who hasn't heard of MacNeil?"**

**And at that stage, Will tired of not know what was going on, decided to speak up.**

**"Well, I haven't, for one," he said. "But I'll make tea if anyone chooses to tell me about him."**

Halt turned to look at his apprentice. "Tea," he said flatly.

"I was conserving the coffee," Will said defensively.

"What, MacNeil isn't worth your coffee?" Horace said indignantly.


	39. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill by now. Gilan reads, snark and mild awkwardness ensues.

Jenny passed the book to Gilan with a smile.

**"So tell me about this Neil," said Will. As the three of them settled comfortably by the fire, steaming mugs of herb tea warming their cupped hands.**

"MacNeil," Gilan, Horace, and Sir Rodney all chorused immediately.

"Tea," Halt muttered, still incredulous.

Will rolled his eyes at both parties.

**"MacNeil," Horace corrected him. "He's a legend."**

"Apparently not a very well known one," Lady Pauline remarked, concealing a smile.

Cassandra giggled. At Horace's dismayed look, she hastily composed herself, but the corners of her mouth kept twitching.

Gilan made a pained noise in his throat.

**"Oh, he's real enough," said Gilan. "I should know. I practiced under him for five years. I started when I was eleven, then at fourteen, I was apprenticed to Halt. But he always gave me leave of absence to continue my work with the Swordmaster."**

**"But why did you continue to learn the sword after you started training as a Ranger?" Horace asked.**

"Because I was good at it," Gilan said bluntly.

Jenny, as befitted a 'proper young lady', did not voice the immediate innuendo that sprang to mind.

**Gilan shrugged. "Maybe people thought it was a shame to waste all that early training. I certainly wanted to continue, and my father is Sir David of Caraway Fief, so I suppose I was given some leeway in the matter."**

**Horace sat up a little straighter at the mention of the name.**

**"Battle Master David?" he said, obviously more than a little impressed. "The new supreme commander?"**

"The Battleschool apprentice knows more than the Ranger about politics," Alyss noted, a smile in her voice even though her face was perfectly composed.

"We hadn't gotten that far yet," Will muttered.

"Yes, we had," Halt reminded him.

Will threw up his hands in exasperation. "Well, it clearly didn't stick!"

Cassandra's peals of laughter made the walls ring.

**Gilan nodded, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm. "The same," he agreed. Then, seeing that Will was still in the dark, he explained further: "My father has been appointed supreme commander of the King's armies, since Lord Northolt was murdered. He commanded the cavalry at the Battle of Hackham Heath."**

**Will's eyes widened. "When Morgarath was defeated and driven into the mountains?"**

"So you do remember something."

"Only accidentally," Will replied cheerfully, grinning at his mentor.

**Both Horace and Gilan nodded. Horace continued the explanation enthusiastically.**

**"Sir Rodney says his coordination of the cavalry with flanking archers in the final stage of the battle is a classic of its kind. He still teaches it as an example of perfect tactics. No wonder your father was chosen to replace Lord Northolt."**

"The one who was killed by the Kalkara?" Jenny asked.

Gilan nodded. "The very same."

**Will realized the conversation had moved away from its original gambit.**

**"So what did your father have to do with this MacNeil character?" he asked, returning to the subject.**

**"Well," said Gilan, "my father was a former pupil as well. It was only natural that MacNeil should gravitate to his Battleschool, wasn't it?"**

**"I suppose so," Will agreed.**

**"And it was only natural that I should come under his tutelage as soon as I could swing a sword. After all, I was the Battlemaster's son."**

**"So how was it that you became a Ranger?" Horace asked. "Weren't you accepted as a knight?"**

"And here we go. I'd forgotten about this conversation," Horace reflected.

"That makes two of us," Will agreed.

Gilan rolled his eyes. "Hopeless, the pair of you."

**Both Rangers looked at him quizzically, somewhat amused by his assumption that a person only became a Ranger after failing to become a knight or a warrior. In truth, it was only a short time since Will had felt the same way, but now he conveniently overlooked the fact.**

"Traitor," Horace muttered.

"You know it."

**Horace became aware of the extended lull in the conversation, then of the looks they were giving him. All of a sudden, he realized his gaffe, and tried to recover.**

_"Tried_ being the operative word," Gilan said dryly.

**"I mean…you know. Well, most of us want to be knights, don't we?"**

**Will and Gilan exchanged glances. Gilan raised an eyebrow. Horace blundered on.**

**"I mean…no offense or anything...but everyone I knows wants to be a warrior."**

"You go to Battleschool," King Duncan deadpanned. "I'd be concerned if there was someone there who didn't want to be a warrior."

**His embarrassment lessened as he pointed a forefinger at Will. "You did yourself, Will! I remember when we were kids, you used to always say you were going to Battleschool and you'd become a famous knight!"**

"I'm a bad example," Will said dryly. "Don't listen to me."

"Sound advice that I adhere to whenever possible," Alyss agreed.

Baron Arald snorted. King Duncan was more restrained, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

**Now it was Will's turn to feel uncomfortable. "And you always sneered at me, didn't you, and said I'd be too small?" he said.**

**"Well, you were!" said Horace, with some heat.**

**"Is that right?" Will replied angrily. "Well, does it occur to you that maybe Halt had already spoken to Sir Rodney and said he wanted me as an apprentice? And that's the reason why I wasn't selected for Battleschool? Has that ever occurred to you?"**

Halt sighed. "Apprentices," he grumbled.

**Gilan interrupted at this point, gently stopping the argument before it got any further out of hand. "I think that's enough of childhood squabbles," he said firmly. Both boys, each ready with another verbal barb, subsided a little awkwardly.**

Alyss had an extremely composed, diplomatic smile on her face. Cassandra was a little less reserved, grinning openly.

**"Oh…yes. Right," mumbled Will. "Sorry."**

**Horace nodded several times, embarrassed at the petty scene that had just occurred. "Me too," he said. Then curiosity piqued, he added; "Is that how it happened, Will? Did Halt tell Sir Rodney not to pick you because he wanted you for a Ranger?"**

"Definitely not," Halt said shortly, just as Sir Rodney said "I choose my own apprentices." The two men looked at each other, then back at Gilan, wholly ignoring Crowley and Baron Arald, who were shaking with suppressed laughter.

King Duncan observed the whole scenario with a smirk on his face.

**Will dropped his gaze and picked at a lose thread on his shirt. "Well…not exactly," he said, then admitted, "and you're right. I always did want to be a knight when I was a kid." Then, turning quickly to Gilan, he added, "But I wouldn't change now, not for anything!"**

**Gilan smiled at the two of them. "I was the opposite," he said. "Remember, I grew up in the Battleschool. I may have started my training with MacNeil when I was eleven, but I began my basic training at around nine."**

**"That must have been wonderful," Horace said with a sigh.**

King Duncan snorted. "Hardly." He recalled with no small amount of resentment the horrendously early mornings of his childhood, and the endless practice drills - first with wooden swords, then with dulled metal ones - never mind how beneficial they had been in the long run.

**Surprisingly, Gilan shook his head.**

**"Not to me. You know what they say about distant pastures always looking greener?"**

**Both boys looked puzzled by this.**

Halt sighed again. Hopeless, the both of them, he thought fondly.

**"It means you always want what you haven't got," he said, and they both nodded their understanding. "Well, that's the way I was. By the time I was twelve, I was sick to death of the discipline and drills and parades." He glanced sidelong at Horace. "There's a bit of that goes on in Battleschool, you know."**

"I noticed, actually," Horace said dryly.

"It is a bit hard to miss," Sir Rodney agreed with a faint smile.

**The heavyset boy sighed. "You're telling me," he agreed. "Still, the horsemanship and practice combats are fun."**

**"Maybe," said Gilan. "But I was more interested in the life the Rangers led. After Hackham Heath, my father and Halt had become good friends and Halt used to come visiting. I'd see him come and go. So mysterious. So adventurous. I started to think what it might be like to come and go as you please. To live in the forests. People know so little about Rangers, it seemed like the most exciting thing in the world to me."**

**Horace looked doubtful. "I've always been a little scared of Halt," he said. "I used to think he was some kind of sorcerer."**

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Did you, now?"

Lady Pauline coughed. "I do remember you threatening to seal a certain young man in a hay bale..."

"He had it coming," Halt grumbled.

"When was this?" Crowley leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table with a grin. "I heard about the oak tree and the bandit -"

Gilan interrupted loudly, continuing to read.

**Will snorted in disbelief. "Halt? A sorcerer?" he said. "He's nothing of the kind!"**

**Horace looked at him, pained once again. "But you used to think the same thing!" he said.**

**"Well…I suppose so. But I was only a kid then."**

**"So was I!" replied Horace, with devastating logic.**

Lady Pauline snorted.

 **Gilan grinned at the two of them. They were both** s **till boys. Halt had been right, he thought. It was good for Will to be spending some time in company with someone his own age.**

**Will turned to the older Ranger. "So did you ask Halt to take you as an apprentice?" he asked. Then, before receiving any answer, continued, "What did he say to that?"**

"Why do you insist on doing that?" Halt complained.

"Doing what?" Will asked, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"That," Halt insisted, jabbing a finger in Will's direction. "Asking more than one question at a time."

"I do?" Will asked, then turned to Alyss (who was stifling giggles). "Do I do that, Alyss? Ask more than one question at a time?"

Alyss, not trusting herself to speak, shook her head, earning her a glare from Halt.

"You see?" Will said, turning back to his mentor. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Halt threw his hands up in despair.

**Gilan shook his head. "I didn't ask him anything. I followed him one day when he left our castle and headed into the forest."**

**"You followed him? A Ranger? You followed a Ranger into the forest?" said Horace. He didn't know whether to be impressed by Gilan's courage or appalled at his foolhardiness. Will sprang to Gilan's defense.**

**"Gil's one of the best unseen movers in the Ranger Corps," he said quickly. "The best, probably."**

**"I wasn't then," said Gilan ruefully. "Mind you, I thought I knew a bit about moving without being seen. I found out how little I actually did know when I tried to sneak up on Halt when he stopped for a noon meal. Next thing I knew, his hand grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and threw me in a stream."**

**He smiled at the memory of it.**

**"I suppose he sent you home in disgrace then?" asked Horace, but Gilan shook his head again, a distant smile on his face as he remembered that day.**

**"On the contrary, he kept me with him for a week. Said I wasn't too bad at sneaking around the forest and I might have some talent as an unseen mover. He started to teach me about being a Ranger - and by the end of the week, I was his apprentice."**

**"How did your father take it when you told him?" Will asked. "Surely he wanted you to be a knight like him. I guess he was disappointed."**

"Why is it," Baron Arald wondered aloud, "that children always assume their parents want them to follow in their footsteps?"

"I can't imagine where you'd get that impression," Sir Rodney said in undertone.

"That was different," Baron Arald hissed back.

**"Not at all," said Gilan. "The strange thing was, Halt had told him that I'd probably be following him into the forest. My father had already agreed that I could sever as Halt's apprentice, before I even knew I wanted to."**

**Horace frowned. "How could Halt have known that?"**

**Gilan shrugged and looked at Will meaningfully. "Halt has a way of knowing things, doesn't he Will?" he asked grinning. Will remembered that dark night in the Baron's office, and the hand that had shot out of the darkness to seize his wrist. Halt had been waiting for him that night. Just as he'd obviously waited for Gilan to follow him.**

**He looked deep into the low embers of the fire before he answered. "Maybe, in his own way, he is a kind of a sorcerer," he said.**

**The three companions sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, thinking about what had been discussed. Then Gilan stretched and yawned.**

**"Well, I'm for sleep," he said. "We're on a war footing these days, so we'll set watches. Will, you're first, then Horace, then me. 'Night, you two'."**

**And so saying, he rolled himself into his gray-green cloak and was soon breathing deeply and evenly.**

"I hate you," Will grumbled.

"No, you don't," Gilan said cheerfully.


	40. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horace reads chapter four of The Burning Bridge. The double-knife plot device ensues.

Gilan offered the book to Horace. The young knight nodded his thanks, turned the page, and began reading.

**They were on the road again before the sub was clear of the horizon. The clouds had cleared now, blown away by a fresh southerly wind, and the air was crisp and cold as their trail started to wind higher into the rocky foothills leading to the border with Celtica.**

**The trees grew stunted and gnarled. The grass was coarse and the thick forest was replaced by short, windblown scrub. This was part of the land where the winds blew constantly, and the land itself reflected its constant scouring action. The few houses they saw in the distance were huddled into the side of hills, built of stone walls and rough thatch roofs. It was a cold, hard part of the kingdom and, as Gilan told them, it would become harder as they entered Celtica itself.**

Cassandra smiled a little wistfully. "That sounds about right," she said, leaning her head on Horace's shoulder.

Horace shifted a little to accommodate her and resumed.

**That evening, as they relaxed around the campfire, Gilan continued with Horace's instruction in swordsmanship.**

**"Timing is the essence of the whole thing," he said to the sweating apprentice. "See how you're parrying with your arm locked and rigid?"**

**Horace looked at his right arm. Sure enough, it was locked, stiff as a board. He looked pained. "But I have to be ready to stop your stroke," he explained.**

Baron Arald _ah'_ d, understanding where this was going.

**Gilan nodded patiently then demonstrated with his own sword.**

**"Take a swing at me." As Horace did so, Gilan said, "Look…see how I'm doing it? As your stroke is coming, my hand and arm are relaxed. Then, just before your sword reaches the spot where I want to stop it, I make a small counter swing, see?"**

"The principle of counter-momentum, isn't it?" Sir Rodney realized, turning to look at Gilan.

The tall Ranger nodded. "It was one of MacNeil's favorites," he said with a grin.

"I'm not surprised," Horace put in. "It's amazingly useful.

**He did so, using his hand and wrist to swing the blade of his sword in a small arc. "My grip tightens at the last moment, and the greater part of the energy of your swing is absorbed by the movement of my own blade."**

**Horace nodded doubtfully. It seemed so easy for Gilan. "But…what if I mistime it?"**

"Don't," King Duncan advised.

Horace grinned. "I try."

**Gilan smiled widely. "Well, in that case, I'll probably just lop your head off your shoulders."**

Jenny made a scandalized noise.

"I wasn't serious, Jen..."

"Nevertheless," Jenny huffed.

**He paused. Horace obviously wasn't too pleased with that answer.**

"Can't imagine why," Will said.

"Haven't a clue," Gilan said breezily. His grin widened. "There's not much to miss up there."

**"The idea is not to mistimed it," Gilan added gently.**

**"But…" the boy began.**

**"And the way to develop your timing is?" Gilan interrupted. Horace nodded wearily.**

**"I know. I know. Practice."**

**Gilan beamed at him again. "That's right. So ready? One and two and three and four, that's better, and three and four…No! No! Just a small movement of the wrist…and one and two…" The ring of their blades echoed through the campsite.**

**Will watched with some interest, heightened by the fact that he wasn't the one who was working up a sweat.**

Gilan cackled. "Let's fix that, shall we?"

**After a few days of this, Gilan noticed that Will seemed a little too relaxed. He was sitting, running a stone down the edge of his sword after a practice session with Horace, when he glanced quizzically at the apprentice Ranger.**

**"Has Halt shown you the double knife sword defense yet?" he asked suddenly. Will looked up in surprise.**

**"The double knife…what?" he asked uncertainly. Gilan sighed deeply.**

"Slacker," Crowley muttered to Halt.

Halt kicked his friend under the table in response.

**"Sword defense. Damn! I should have realized that there'd be more for me to do. Serves me right for taking two apprentices along with me." He stood with an exaggerated sigh, and motioned for Will to follow him. Puzzled, the boy did.**

**Gilan led the way to the clear ground where he and Horace had been practicing their swordsmanship. Horace was still** **there, making shadow lunges and cuts at an imaginary foe as he counted time to himself under his breath. Sweat ran freely down his face and his shirt was dark with it.**

**"Right, Horace," called Gilan. "Take a break for a few minutes."**

**Gratefully, Horace complied. He lowered the sword and sank onto the trunk of a fallen tree.**

**"I think I'm getting the feel of it," he said. Gilan nodded approvingly.**

**"Good for you. Another three or four years and you might just have it mastered."**

Horace looked up from the book to glare good-naturedly at Gilan. "You really need to work on your encouragement," he said.

Gilan shrugged, unrepentant. "It worked on you, didn't it?"

**He spoke cheerfully, but Horace's face dropped as the prospect of long years of weary practice stretched out in front of him.**

**"Look on the bright side, Horace," Gilan said. "By that time, there'd be less than a handful of swordsmen in the kingdom who could best you in a duel."**

"Provided you trip and fall under their horse," Will added with a grin.

Sir Rodney raised an eyebrow. "That's not how I remember it," he said dryly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Horace said without looking up from the book.

**Horace's face brightened somewhat, then sagged again as Gilan added: "The only trick is knowing who those handful are. Be most uncomfortable if you accidentally challenged one of them and found out, wouldn't it?"**

**He didn't wait for an answer, but turned to the smaller boy.**

**"Now, Will," he said. "Let's see those knives of yours."**

**"Both of them?" Will hesitated and Gilan rolled his eyes to heaven. The expression was remarkably like the one that Halt used when Will asked one question to many.**

"I did use the plural, yes?" Gilan said.

Will flushed.

**"Sorry," Will mumbled, unsheathing his two knives and holding them out to Gilan.**

Halt raised a gray, bushy eyebrow. "'Sorry'?" he echoed. "You actually _apologized?"_

**The older Ranger didn't take them. He quickly inspected their edges and checked to see that the fine layer of rust-proofing oil was on them. He nodded, satisfied, when he saw everything was as it should be.**

**"Right," he said. "Saxe knife goes in your right hand, because that's the one you use to block a sword cut-"**

**Will frowned. "Why would I need to block a sword cut?"**

"Why do you think?" Crowley asked, an eyebrow attempting to hide in his hairline.

**Gilan leaned forward and rapped him none too gently on the top of head with his knuckles.**

**"Well, perhaps to stop it from splitting your skull might be a good reason," he suggested.**

**"But Halt says Rangers don't fight at close quarters," Will protested. Gilan nodded agreement.**

"Halt says a lot of things," Lady Pauline said.

Halt sighed. "The one time you listen to me..."

**"It's certainly not our role. But, if the occasion arises when we have to, it's a good idea to know how to go about it."**

**As they'd been talking, Horace had risen from his spot on the log and moved closer to watch them. He interrupted a trifle scornfully.**

**"You don't think a little knife like that is going to stop a proper sword, do you?" he asked. Gilan raised one eyebrow at him.**

"Well, maybe not one of them," Gilan said agreeably. "I did say _double_ -knife defense, didn't I?"

**"Take a closer look at that 'little knife' before you sound so certain," he invited. Horace held out his hand for the knife. Will quickly reversed it and placed its hilt into Horace's hand.**

**Will had to agree with Horace. The saxe knife was a large knife. Almost a short sword, in fact. But compared to a real sword, like Horace's or Gilan's, it seemed woefully inadequate.**

**Horace swung the knife experimentally, testing its balance.**

**"It's heavy," he said finally.**

**"And hard. Very, very hard," Gilan told him.**

"About as hard as your thick skull," Halt groused.

Crowley roared with laughter as Gilan flushed.

**"Ranger knives are made by craftsman who've perfected the art of hardening steel to an amazing degree. You'd blunt your sword edge against that, and barely leave a nick on it."**

**Horace pursed his lips. "Even so, you've been teaching me the idea of movement and leverage all week. There's a lot less leverage in a short blade like this."**

Sir Rodney grinned. "Told you he was a quick learner, didn't I?"

Gilan nodded. "You did."

Horace flushed happily and hid his growing grin by hurriedly continuing on.

**"That's true," Gilan agreed. "So we have to find another source of leverage, don't we? And that's the shorter knife. The throwing knife."**

**"I don't get it," said Horace, the frown deepening between his eyebrows. Will didn't either, but he was glad the other boy had admitted his ignorance first. He adopted a knowing look as he waited for Gilan to explain. He should have known better. The Ranger's sharp eyes missed very little.**

"Ass," Horace grumbled.

"Sorry," Will said sheepishly.

**"Well, perhaps Will could explain it for you?" Gilan said pleasantly.**

**"Well…it's the…ah…um…the two knife defense," he stammered.**

Halt sighed again. "What did I tell you about trying to bluff your way through things?"

Will squired uncomfortably, knowing full well that no answer he could give would redeem that particular error.

**There was a long pause as Gilan said nothing, so Will added, just a little doubtfully, "Isn't it?"**

There was a dull thud as Gilan's face met the wooden table. When the Ranger sat upright again, there was a bright red spot in the center of his forehead.

Jenny looked levelly at him. "You look ridiculous."

"Thank you, Jenny."

**"Of course it is!" Gilan replied. "Now would you care to demonstrate?" He didn't even wait for Will's reply, but went on with barely a pause, "I thought not. So, please, allow me."**

**He took Will's saxe knife and withdrew his own throwing knife from its sheath. Then he gestured to Horace's sword with the smaller knife.**

**"Right, then," he said, all business. "Pick up your sticker."**

"Sticker?" Sir Rodney repeated, looking somewhat offended.

Gilan nodded. "Sticker."

**Horace did so, doubtfully. Gilan gestured him out to the center of the practice area, then took a ready stance. Horace did the same, sword point up.**

**"Now," said Gilan, "Try an overhand cut at me."**

**"But…" Horace gestured unhappily to the two smaller weapons in Gilan's grasp. Gilan rolled his eyes in exasperation.**

**"When will you two learn?" he asked. "I do know what I'm doing."**

"Sometimes," Halt put in dryly.

Gilan grinned. "Well, if I knew what I was doing _all_ the time, very little would actually get done."

_**"Now get on with it!"  
** _

Several people around the table jumped at the sudden bellow that issued from Horace (who, if you will remember, was reading this particular chapter).

"You know, I think I have an opening for 'drill instructor' at the Battleschool," Sir Rodney mused.

 **He actually shouted the last words at** **Horace**.

"I would never have guessed," Crowley muttered, massaging his eardrums.

**The big apprentice, galvanized into action, and conditioned to instant obedience to shouted commands by his months spent on the drill field, swung his word in a murderous overhand cut at Gilan's head.**

**There was a ringing clash of steel and the blade stopped dead in the air. Gilan had crossed the two Ranger knives in front of it, the throwing knife supporting the saxe knife blade, and blocked the cut easily. Horace stepped back, a little surprised.**

"You'll get used to it," Will said, grinning.

Horace made a face. "Oh, joy."

**"See?" said Gilan. "The smaller knife provides the support, or the extra leverage, for the bigger weapon." He addressed these remarks mainly to Will, who looked on with great interest. Then he spoke to Horace again. "Right. Underhand cut, please."**

**Horace swung underhand. Again, Gilan locked the two blades and blocked the stroke. He glanced at Will, who nodded his understanding.**

**"Now, side cut," Gilan ordered. Again, Horace swung. Again, the sword was stopped cold.**

**"Getting the idea?" Gilan asked Will.**

**"Yes. What about a straight thrust?" he asked.**

"Only one question?" Halt asked innocently.

**Gilan nodded approvingly.**

**"Good question. That's a little different." He turned back to Horace. "Incidentally, if you're ever facing a man using two knives, thrusting is your safest and most effective form of attack. Now, thrust, please."**

**Horace lunged with the point of his sword, his right foot leading the way in a high-stepping stamp to deliver extra momentum to the stroke. This time, Gilan used only the saxe knife to deflect the blade, sending it gliding past his body with a slither of steel.**

**"We can't stop this one," he instructed Will. "So we simply deflect it. On the positive side, there's less force behind a thrust, so we can use just the saxe knife."**

**Horace meeting no real resistance to the thrust, had stumbled forward as the blade was deflected.**

Sir Rodney hissed in a breath.

**Instantly, Gilan's left hand was gripping a handful of his shirt and pulled him closer, until their shoulders were almost touching.**

Baron Arald and King Duncan winced, both acutely aware of how dangerous a position that was to be in, especially when armed only with a longer weapon.

**It happened so quickly and casually that Horace's eyes widened in surprise.**

**"And this is where a short blade comes in very handy indeed," Gilan pointed out. He mimed an underarm thrust with the saxe knife into Horace's exposed side.**

"Of course, most knights wear a mail shirt, at the very least," Sir Rodney pointed out, leaning forward.

"Not to worry," Gilan said cheerfully. "We can work around that too."

**The boy's eyes widened even further as he realized the full implications of what he had just been shown. His discomfort increased as Gilan continued his demonstration.**

**"And of course, if you don't want to kill him, or he's wearing a mail shirt, you could always use the saxe blade to cripple him." He mimed a short swing to the back of Horace's knee, bringing the heavy, razor-sharp blade to a halt a few inches from his leg.**

"You see?"

**Horace gulped. But the lesson still wasn't over.**

**"Or remember," Gilan added cheerfully, "this left hand, holding his collar, also has a rather nasty, rather sharp stabbing blade attached to it." He waggled the short, broad-bladed throwing knife to bring their attention on it.**

"Good to know what makes you happy, Gilan," Cassandra interjected, looping her arm through Horace's.

Gilan shrugged. "I needed to make sure they got the point."

"I'm rather glad I didn't, actually," Horace said, rubbing his jaw with his free hand.

Jenny laughed. "He's got a point, Gilan."

**"A quick thrust up under the jaw and it's good night swordsman, isn't it?"**

**Will shook his head in admiration. "That's amazing, Gilan!" he breathed. "I've never seen anything like it."**

"I'd hope not," Horace grumbled.

**Gilan released his grip on Horace's shirt and the boy stepped back quickly, before any more demonstrations of his vulnerability might be made.**

"Now that you've finished demonstrating how to kill my apprentice..." Sir Rodney began, then winced as Baron Arald kicked him under the table.

**"We don't make a lot of noise about it," the Ranger admitted. "It's preferable to run into a swordsman who doesn't know the dangers involved in the double knife defense." He glanced apologetically at Horace. "Naturally, it's taught in the Kingdom's Battleschools," he added. "But it's a second-year subject. Sir Rodney would have shown you next year."**

**Will stepped forward into the practice ground. "Can I try it?" he asked eagerly, unsheathing his throwing knife.**

**"Of course," said Gilan. "You may as well practice together in the evenings from now on. But not with real weapons. Cut some practice sticks to use."**

**Horace nodded at the wisdom of this. "That's right, Will," he said. "After all, you're just starting to learn this and I wouldn't want to hurt you." He thought about it, then added with a grin, "Well, not too badly, anyway."**

Halt coughed pointedly, arcing one eyebrow in Horace's direction. He didn't seriously think Horace would ever hurt Will, but a mentor's instincts never went away.

**The grin faded as Gilan corrected him. "That's one reason, of course," said the Ranger. "But we also don't have the time for you to be resharpening your sword every night."**

**He glanced meaningfully down at Horace's blade. The apprentice followed his gaze and let out a low moan. There were two deep nicks in the edge of his blade, obviously from the overhand and underhand cuts that Gilan had blocked. One glance told Horace that he'd spend at least an hour honing and sharpening to get rid of them.**

"Thanks for that, Gilan," Horace grumbled.

Gilan shrugged. "A point had to be made," he said. "If I'd demonstrated with sticks, it would have had the same effect, would it?"

Horace thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "You're probably right."

"I'm always right." Gilan said.

Halt snorted.

**He looked questioningly at the saxe knife, hopping to see the same result there. Gilan shook his head cheerfully and brought the heavy blade up for inspection.**

**"Not a mark," he said, grinning. "Remember, I told you that Ranger knives are specially made."**

**Ruefully, Horace rummaged in his pack for his sharpening steel and, sitting down on the hard-packed sand, began to draw it along the edge of his sword.**

**"Gilan," Will said. "I've been thinking…"**

"You're an apprentice," Halt and Crowley chorused. "You're too young to think."

**Gilan raised his eyebrows to heaven in mock despair. Again, the expression reminded Will forcefully of Halt. "Always a problem," said the Ranger. "And what, pray tell, have you been thinking?"**

**"Well," began Will slowly, "this double knife business is all well and good. But wouldn't it be better just to shoot the swordsman before he got to close quarters?"**

"That's why we give you a bow," Crowley said with a grin.

**"Yes, Will. It certainly would," Gilan agreed patiently. "But what if you were about to do that and your bowstring broke?"**

**"I could run and hide," he suggested, but Gilan pressed him.**

**"What if there was nowhere to run? You're trapped against a sheer cliff. Nowhere to go. Your bowstring just broke and an angry swordsman is coming at you. What then?"**

**Will shook his head. "I suppose then I'd have to fight," he admitted reluctantly.**

**"Exactly," Gilan agreed. "We avoid close combat wherever possible. But if the time comes when there's no other choice, it's a good idea to be prepared, isn't it?"**

**"I guess," Will said. Then Horace chimed in with a question.**

"You _guess?"_ Halt demanded, wincing only slightly as Lady Pauline kicked him under the table.

Will raised his hands in surrender, grinning.

**"What about an axman?" he said. Gilan looked at him, nonplussed for a moment.**

**"An axman?" he asked.**

**"Yes," said Horace, warming to his theme. "What about if you're facing an enemy with a battleaxe? Do your knives work then?"**

**Gilan hesitated. "I wouldn't advise anyone to face a battleaxe with just two knives," he said carefully.**

**"So what should I do?" Will joined in. Gilan glared from one boy to the other. He had the feeling he was being set up.**

**"Shoot him," he said shortly. Will shook his head, grinning.**

**"Can't," he said. "My bowstring's broken."**

**"Then run and hide," said Gilan, between gritted teeth.**

**"But there's a cliff," Horace pointed out. "A sheer drop behind him and an angry axman coming at him."**

**"What do I do?" prompted Will.**

**Gilan took a deep breath and looked them both in the eye, one after the other.**

**"Jump off the cliff. It'll be less messy that way."**

"Excellent advice, Gilan," Will said dryly, recalling a recent close call with just such an angry axeman.


	41. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sir Digby is thrown in a moat and nobody is sympathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to be very slow for the foreseeable future — I'm participating in Camp NaNoWriMo and trying to get published — but I swear this fic is not dead!

Horace passed the book to Baron Arald, who glanced at the first page and grimaced. "Damn, this one's about _me_ ," he grumbled. Nevertheless, he waved away Sir Rodney's offer to read and began.

**Baron Arald shoved the heavy parchment scroll to one side and looked up at Lady Pauline in exasperation.**   
**  
"Pauline, do you understand what this idiot getting at?" he asked.**

"Which idiot was this?" Sir Rodney wondered.

"Oh, pick one," Baron Arald groused.

**The head of Castle Redmont's Diplomatic Corps nodded.**

"In principle, I do, my lord," she said. Arald made a frustrated gesture.

**"Then in principle, please explain it to me," he said, adding in a undertone, "as if I don't have enough on my plate planning for war without this sort of nonsense."**

King Duncan snorted.  
 **  
Lady Pauline suppressed a smile. Arald had a well-known dislike of legal documents with their whereifs, wheretofores and notwithstandings.**

"Sounds like Halt," Crowley said, grinning. _"Ow!"_

**"Sir Montague of Cobram Keep is obliged to supply a draft of four knights and thirty men-at-arms when called upon," she began.**

**"And I take it he is refusing to do so?" said the Baron wearily.**

**"Not exactly, sir," she replied. "He is willing to supply the men. He is unwilling to place them, or himself, under your command."**

"Who's command would he be under, then?" Sir Rodney demanded. "The Crown's? He's no Baron!"

Arald sighed. "God only knows."

**Arald frowned. There was no trace of his customary good humor evident at that statement.**   
**  
"But he is under my command," he said. "Cobram Keep is within the boundaries of Redmont Fief and I am his lord. And commander."**

**Pauline nodded agreement. "Correct, my lord. But he does have a case. A very tenuous one, I must say, but a case nonetheless."**

Halt muttered something dire and insulting about politics.

**Arald's face, already flushed with annoyance, became a little redder.**

"Something I hadn't thought possible," Crowley joked good-naturedly.

**"How can he have a case?" he demanded. "His castle is within my boundaries. I am the lord of Redmont Fief. He is my tenant. I am his commander. End of story. Ispo facto. Case-o closed-o."**

A ripple of laughter echoed around the table at the last part.

**"As he sees it, my lord, the whole thing hinges on a treaty signed by his great-great-grand uncle and the present king's great-great-grandfather, when Cobram Keep became part of the Kingdom of Araluen-and the Fief of Redmont. At that time, Cobram Keep was allowed to retain a certain level of independence."**

"My great-great-grandfather could be somewhat naive in matters of state," King Duncan said delicately.  
 **  
"That's ridiculous! You can't run a kingdom like that! What was Duncan's great-great-whatever-he-was thinking?"**

"It's a mystery for the ages," Cassandra said dryly.

**"It was a gesture only, my lord. The said independence would apply only to certain matters of civil administration - the right to perform and register marriages, for example - not military matters."**

**"Well then!" Arald exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "If that's the case, where is the problem?"**

"Lawyers," Crowley said. "It's always lawyers."

**"The intent is obvious, my lord, in context. But this treaty was drawn up by lawyers, so there is a certain ambiguity in the wording."**

Crowley spread his hands as if to say, _there, you see?_

**"Ambiguity is always certain when lawyers are involved," Arald said. His face brightened. He rather liked that piece of wordplay. It struck him as quite droll. He looked hopefully for a smile from Lady Pauline, but in vain. Deciding she must have missed it, he began again.**

Jenny giggled. Baron Arald beamed at her.

"Don't encourage him," Gilan stage-whispered.

**"You see, you said 'a certain ambiguity' and I said, 'Ambiguity is always certain when'-"**

**"Yes, yes, my lord. Quite so," Pauline said, cutting him off. Arald looked disappointed. She continued, "Nigel and I have gone through the treaty, and the letter, and Nigel has drafted a reply. He has found seventeen points of law where Montague has grossly misrepresented the intent of the treaty. In short, he has destroyed Montague's case most comprehensively."**

"He's good at that," Sir Rodney said with a grin.

Lady Pauline's inclined her head. "He is, at that."

**"He's good at that," Arald said, smiling once again. This time, Pauline smiled with him.**

"None better, my lord," she said.

**"So what's our next move?" the Baron asked. Pauline proffered the letter she had mentioned, but he waved it away. If Nigel and Pauline were happy with it, he knew it would be water tight. Pauline nodded.**

Halt was certainly not smiling underneath his beard.

**"Very well, my lord. We'll do a final draft and I thought I might have one of my students deliver it."**

**She replaced the draft letter in a thin leather folder, then withdrew another document, laying it on the table in front of her and smoothing it out so that it lay flat.**

**"Now, my lord, there is another matter we must discuss…"**

"Halt, what did you do now?" King Duncan joked.

"Actually, your majesty," Baron Arald said, sighing, "that's exactly the question."

**She saw the pained expression on the Baron's face. She knew he didn't want to discuss it.**

**"You're talking about this brouhaha with Halt, I suppose? I really don't have the time," he said, making dismissive gestures at her.**

Gilan snorted in a manner reminiscent of Blaze.

**"Nonetheless, my lord, it is a brouhaha that we must make time for." She tapped the document with one forefinger. "This is a summary of the brouhaha in question, my lord."**

**Arald glanced up at her. She seemed to be quite fond of that word, he thought. Or she was gently making fun of his choice of it in the first place**.

"I would never, my lord," Lady Pauline assured him, the picture of innocence.

**But Lady Pauline's face gave nothing away. She continued: "If you care to look through it?"**

**He reached for it reluctantly. Pauline had known that he would try to avoid the subject. It was distasteful for all of them, but unfortunately, it had to be resolved. At that moment, there was a heavy-handed knock at the door to the Baron's office and, grateful for any interruption, he hastily called. "Come in!"**

**She frowned at the distraction. It was Sir Rodney, head of the Redmont Battleschool. He threw the door open and entered with a little more than his usual energy. He was talking before he had even crossed the threshold.**

"Halt..."

"He had it coming," Halt said shortly.

**"My lord, you're simply going to have to do something about Halt!" he said. Then, noticing Lady Pauline, he made a small gesture of apology. "Oh, sorry, Pauline, didn't see you there."**

Halt may or may not have raised an eyebrow.

**Lady Pauline inclined her head in acknowledgment of the apology. The department heads at Redmont were all good friends. There was no petty jealousy between them, none of the maneuvering for influence and favor that plagued some fiefs.**

"For which I am infinitely grateful," Baron Arald put in.

"You're welcome," Sir Rodney said bluntly.

Lady Pauline rolled her eyes.

**"Do I sense another brouhaha in the making?" Lady Pauline said innocently and he glanced suspiciously at her. She seemed not to notice.**

Gilan was still snickering. Baron Arald glared at him.

Gilan failed to notice.

**"Well, one of my fourth-year apprentices was stupid enough to make a remark about Will and Horace being sent off on a soft assignment. Said that's all they were good for."**

Halt grumbled something that earned him a light kick under the table from Lady Pauline.

Horace snorted. _"Soft_ assignment..."

"What assignment was this, exactly?" Will asked. "I must have missed it."

"Can't imagine," Cassandra said lightly.

**"Oh, dear," said Lady Pauline. "I do hope he didn't make this remark in Halt's hearing?"**

"Actually, he didn't," Halt admitted.

Sir Rodney's face was turning color. "Then _why_ —"

"I read his lips."

**"Unfortunately, yes," said Rodney. "He's not a bad lad. All muscle and bone, mind you, and a good deal of that between his ears. But he was feeling his oats a little and told Halt to mind his own business." He paused, then added, by way of explanation, "Everyone's a little jumpy, what with all the preparations for war."**

"Yes, I've heard those tend to have some effect on people," King Duncan said dryly.

**"So how is the lad?" Arald asked. Rodney shrugged.**

**"The infirmary says there's no lasting damage. He'll be back on duty in a few days' time. But the point is, I can't have Halt going around damaging my apprentices. I'm going to need them soon."**

"You need _smart_ apprentices," Halt corrected.

Sir Rodney just sighed.

**Arald toyed with one of the quill pens on his desk. "He's definitely been difficult these past few days," he said. "It's like having a bear with a sore head around the castle. In fact, I think I might prefer a bear with a sore head. It would be less disruptive."**

"Quite so," King Duncan agreed, turning to look meaningfully at Halt, who was now imitating his wife as the picture of innocence.

**"We were about to discuss Halt's behavior as you arrived," Lady Pauline said, taking the opportunity to return the conversation to the case in hand. "There's been a complaint about him from Sir Digby of Barga."**

The residents of Redmont — save Jenny, who didn't know the name — all groaned collectively.

**"Digby?" Rodney said, a frown touching his face. "Didn't he try to short change us on his draft of men?"**

"That happens a lot, it seems," King Duncan said.

Cassandra nodded. "I recall at least two occasions when one of the southern Barons tried to shortchange us."

"Not Seacliffe?" Will said, aghast.

Cassandra shook her head. "No, never Seacliffe. Of course, they have their own problems," she added, grinning.

**"Exactly," said the Baron. "We're having a lot of that going on at the moment. So I sent Halt to straighten matters out. Thought it might be a good idea to give him something to keep him busy."**

**"So what's Digby got to complain about?" Rodney asked. It was obvious from his tone that he felt no sympathy for the recalcitrant commander of Barga Hold.**

"Certainly not!" Sir Rodney exclaimed.

**The Baron gestured for Lady Pauline to explain.**

**"Apparently," she said, "Halt threw him into the moat."**

There was a moment of complete silence before the table erupted in laughter.


	42. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilan, Horace, and Will arrive in Celtica. Halt despairs at how they handled the situation.

Baron Arald passed the book to Crowley, who flipped it back open with a lazy flick of the wrist and started reading.

**"Where the devil is everyone?" Gilan brought Blaze to a halt and looked around the deserted border post.**

"Dead, I take it?" Baron Arald asked.

"Some of them, most likely," Will agreed. "But some of them might have survived."

**There was a small guardhouse by the side of the road, barely large enough to keep two or three men sheltered from the wind. Further back was a slightly larger garrison house. Normally, at a small, remote border post like this, there would be a garrison of half a dozen men, who would live in the larger building and take shifts at the guardhouse by the road.**

"And instead, there were none," Gilan muttered.

**Like the majority of the buildings in Celtica, both structures were built in the gray sintered stone of the region, flat river stones that had been split lengthwise, with roof tiles of the same material. Wood was scarce in Celtica. Even fires for heating used coal or peat whenever possible.**

"What is peat?" Jenny asked curiously.

"Dried swamp, mostly. Occasionally mixed with a little dung," Gilan added.

Jenny's eyes narrowed craftily as new business ideas began to fill her mind.

**Whatever timber was available was needed for shoring up the tunnels and galleries of Celtica's iron and coal mines.**

**Will looked around him uneasily, peering into the scrubby heather that covered the windswept hills as if expecting a sudden horde of Celts to rise up from it. There was something unnerving about the near silence of the spot - there was no sound but the quiet sighing of the wind through the hills and heather.**

**"Perhaps they're between shifts?" he suggested, his voice seeming unnaturally loud.**

"Not on a border post," King Duncan said, leaning forward. He had read the report, and of course heard the story from his daughter, but he still had questions.

**Gilan shook his head. "It's a border post. It should be garrisoned at all times."**

King Duncan nodded at Gilan. The young Ranger grinned, delighted at the confirmation — even if it was of something he was perfectly confident in.

**He swung down from the saddle, making a motion for Will and Horace to stay mounted. Tug, sensing Will's uneasiness, sidestepped nervously in the road. Will calmed him with a gentle pat on the neck. The little horse's ears went up at his master's touch and he shook his head, as if to deny that he was in any way edgy.**

"Tug, edgy?" Alyssa said, smiling. "Never."

**"Could they have been attacked and driven off?" Horace asked. His mindset always worked toward fighting, which Will supposed was only natural in a Battleschool apprentice.**

"If it didn't, we'd be in trouble," Sir Rodney agreed.

Horace grinned. "Just as well, then."

**Gilan shrugged as he pushed open the door of the guardhouse and peered inside.**

**"Maybe," he said, looking around the interior. "But there doesn't seem to be any sign of fighting."**

"What counts as signs of fighting?" Jenny wanted to know. "Bloodstains, broken things...?"

Gilan nodded. "Those are the obvious signs," he agreed. "Also gauges in the walls, floor, or furniture. General disarray is also a clue. Makeshift barricades are also a good clue, and it tells you that one party almost certainly had archers." He flicked a glance at Halt, who nodded subtly.

**He leaned against the doorway, frowning. The guardhouse was a single-roomed building, with a minimal furnishing of a few benches and a table.**

"No beds?" Baron Arald frowned.

"Maybe they slept down in the village," Will suggested, "and only came up to the guardhouse on shifts."

"It's possible," Baron Arald conceded. "Seems an odd way to run an outpost."

"Not if it's in the middle of nowhere," Halt disagreed. "You'd want it to be self-sufficient in the event of an attack."

"Very true," Baron Arald acknowledged.

**There was nothing here to give him any clue as to where the occupants had gone.**

**"It's only a minor post," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps the Celts have simply stopped manning it. After all, there's been a truce between Araluen and Celtica for over thirty years now."**

"For all the good it did us," King Duncan muttered bitterly.

"If it weren't for the friendship between us, we wouldn't have known about the bridge until it was too late," Cassandra reminded him softly.

King Duncan sighed. He knew this, of course. But he hadn't been prepared to pay what it had almost cost him.

**He pushed himself away from the doorway and jerked a thumb toward the garrison house. "Maybe we'll find something down there," he said.**

"More empty houses," Horace said dryly.

"You found plenty interesting about them," Will said, feeling rather superior.

"You were scared to!" Horace said defensively. "Admit it!"

"Of course I was scared!" Will returned. "You were sitting there describing plagues and whatnot —"

Crowley cleared his throat, and both boys shut up immediately.

**The two boys dismounted. Horace tethered his horse and the pack pony to the counterweighted bar that could swing down to close the road. Will simply let Tug's reins fall to the ground. The Ranger horse was trained not to stray. He took his bow from the leather bow scabbard behind the saddle and slung it across his shoulders. Naturally, it was already strung. Rangers always travelled with their bows ready for use. Horace, noticing the gesture, loosened his sword slightly in its scabbard and they set off after Gilan for the garrison house.**

**The small stone building was neat, clean and deserted. But here at least there were signs that the occupants had left in a hurry. There were a few plates on a table, bearing the dried-out remains of food, and several closet doors hung open.**

"In a hurry indeed," Sir Rodney murmured, leaning forward.

**Items of clothing were scattered on the floor in the dormitory, as if their owners had hurriedly crammed a few belongings into packs before leaving. Several of the bunks were missing blankets.**

"They had time to run, at least," Cassandra put in. Horace looked at her, puzzled. "If the...Wargals had caught them, they wouldn't have packed," she explained.

**Gilan ran a forefinger along the edge of the dining room table, leaving a wavy line in the layer of dust that had gathered there. He inspected the tip of his finger and pursed his lips.**

**"They didn't leave recently," he said.**

**Horace, who had been peering into the small supply room under the stairs, started at the sound of the Ranger's voice, bumping his head on the low door-sill.**

**"How can you tell?" he asked, more to cover his own embarrassment than out of real curiosity. Gilan swept an arm around the room.**

"Perhaps it was the dust," Halt suggested mildly.

Cassandra muffled a giggle against Horace's shoulder.

Horace grumbled indignantly, hiding a sheepish grin.

**"Celts are neat people. This dust must have settled since they left. At a guess, I'd say the place has been empty for at least a month."**

**"Maybe it's like you said," Will suggested, coming down the steps from the command room. "Maybe they decided they didn't need to keep this post manned anymore."**

**Gilan nodded several times. But his expression showed he wasn't convinced.**

**"That wouldn't explain why they left in a hurry," he said. He swept his arm around the room. "Look at all of this - the food on the table, the open closets, the clothes scattered on the floor. When people close down a post like this, they clean up and take their belongings with them. Particularly Celts. As I said, they're very orderly."**

"Unless you get them drinking," King Duncan added. "Do you remember, Arald?" he added, turning to the Baron.

Arald grinned. "I do, your majesty."

"Oh, that sounds like a story," Crowley said, grin widening.

"It was," Lady Pauline agreed.

**He led the way outside again and swept his gaze around the deserted landscape, as if hoping to find some clue to the puzzle there. But there was nothing visible except their own horses, idly cropping the short grass that grew by the guardhouse.**

**"The map shows the nearest village is Pordellath," he said. "It's a little out of our way, but perhaps we can find out what's been going on here."**

**Pordellath was only five kilometers away. Because of the steep nature of the land, the path would and zigzagged up the hillsides. Consequently, they had almost reached the little village before it came in sight.**

"As the crow flies versus how the horse walks?" Jenny suggested.

Gilan smiled at her. "Exactly."

 _Not exactly,_ Will thought. But it was close.

**It was late in the day and both Will and Horace were feeling the pangs of hunger. They hadn't stopped for their normal noon meal, initially because they'd been in a hurry to reach the border post, then because they had pressed on to Pordellath. There would be an inn in the village and both boys were thinking fondly of a hot meal and cool drinks. As a result of this preoccupation, they were surprised when Gilan reined in as the village came into sight around the shoulder of a hill, barely two hundred meters away.**

**"What the hell is going on here?" he asked. "Look at that!"**

**Will and Horace looked. For the life of** **him** \- "and it might have _been_ your life, if that had been an ambush," Halt interjected, scowling, - **Will couldn't see what might be bothering the young Ranger.**

**"I don't see anything," he admitted.**

Halt rubbed his temples. "And therein lies the problem, Will."

Will ducked his head. "Yes. Sorry, Halt."

Halt grunted. "At least you learned.

**Gilan turned to him.**

**"Exactly!" he agreed. "Nothing! No smoke from the chimneys. No people in the streets. It looks as empty as the border post!"**

**He nudged Blaze with his knees and the bay horse broke into a canter on the stony road. Will followed, with Horace's horse a little slower to respond.**

Horace made an indignant noise at the slight to his much-beloved Kicker.

**Strung out in a line, they clattered into the village, finally drawing rein in the small market square.**

**There wasn't much to Pordellath. Just the short main street by which they'd entered, lined with houses and shops on either side, and widening into the small square at the end. It was dominated by the largest structure, which was, in Celtic fashion, the Riadhah's dwelling. The Riadhah was the hereditary village headman - a combined clan chief, mayor and sheriff. His authority was absolute and he ruled unchallenged over the villagers.**

**That is, when there were any villagers for him to rule. Today there was no Riadhah. There were no villagers. Only the faint, dying echoes of the horses' hooves on the cobbled surface of the square.**

**"Hello!" Gilan shouted, and his voice echoed down the narrow main street, bouncing of the stone buildings, then reaching out to the surrounding hills.**

**"Oh-oh-oh…" it went, gradually tailing away into silence. The horses shifted nervously again. Will was reluctant to seem to correct the Ranger, but he was uneasy at the way he was advertising their presence here.**

Halt looked at Gilan flatly. "Why?"

Gilan shifted. "Er..."

**"Maybe you shouldn't do that?" he suggested. Gilan glanced at him, a trace of his normal good humor returning as he sensed the reason for Will's discomfort.**

**"Why's that?" he asked.**

**"Well," Will said, glancing nervously around the deserted market square, "if somebody has taken away the people here, maybe we don't want them to know that we've arrived."**

"Thank you, Will," Halt said dryly.

Will beamed. Gilan grumbled.

**Gilan shrugged. "I think it's a little late for that," he said. "We came galloping in here like the King's cavalry, and we've been traveling the road completely in the open. If anybody was looking out for us, they would have already seen us."**

Gilan pointed at the book (and at Crowley, who was trying unsuccessfully to hold in his laughter). "See? I didn't _lose_ anything by doing it -"

"But you didn't gain anything either," Will interrupted, grinning.

**"I suppose so," said Will doubtfully.**

**Horace, meanwhile, had edged his horse up close to one of the houses and was leaning down from the saddle to peer in under the low windows, trying to see inside. Gilan noticed the movement.**

**"Let's take a look around," he said, and dismounted.**

**Horace wasn't terribly eager to follow his example.**

**"What if this is some kind of plague or something?" he said.**

**"A plague?" asked Gilan.**

**Horace swallowed nervously. "Yes. I mean, I've heard of this sort of thing happening years and years ago; whole towns would be wiped out by a plague that would sweep in and just…sort of…kill people where they stood."**

"That is _not_ how plague works," Lady Pauline said disapprovingly.

Horace threw up his hands in despair - or tried to, since Cassandra still held one of his arms hostage and didn't seem inclined to let go any time soon. "Well, how was I to know?"

**As he said it, he was edging his horse away from the building, and out to the center of the square. Will inadvertently began to follow suit. The moment Horace had raised the idea, he'd had pictures of the three of them lying dead in the square, faces blackened, tongues protruding, eyes bulging from their final agonies.**

"Sounds a bit like a battlefield," Sir Rodney muttered.

"Of a sort," Lady Pauline agreed.

**"So this plague could just come out of thin air?" Gilan asked calmly. Horace nodded several times.**

**"Nobody really knows how they spread," he said. "I've heard that it's the night air that carries plague. Or the west wind, sometimes. But however it travels, it strikes so fast, there's no escape. It simply kills you where you stand."**

"It's always the air or the wind," Sir Rodney complained. "Why can it never be the rats? Or the water?"

Lady Pauline smiled. "That's not nearly as interesting."

**"Every man, woman and child in its path?" Gilan prompted. Again, Horace's head nodded frantically.**

**"Everyone. Kills 'em stone dead!"**

**Will was beginning to feel a lumpy dryness in the back of his throat, even as the other two were speaking. He tried to swallow and his throat felt raspy. He had a moment of panic as he wondered if this wasn't the first onset of the plague.**

Halt threw up his hands in despair (more successfully than Horace had).

"Sorry, Halt," Will said sheepishly. Horace echoed him a moment later.

Halt shook his head. "Be glad it wasn't _actually_ the plague."

**His breath was coming faster and he almost missed Gilan's next question.**

**"And then it just…dissolves the dead bodies away into thin air?" he asked mildly.**

**"Oh," said Horace, as he realized the flaw in his theory. "Well, maybe it's a new strain of plague. Maybe it does sort of dissolve the bodies."**

Crowley looked up from the book, raising an eyebrow at Horace. "So how would that work, exactly?"

Horace shrugged. "Well, I don't know. I'm not a healer."

"Yes, it shows," Crowley said cheerfully.

**Gilan looked at him skeptically, his head to one side.**

**"Or maybe there were one or two people who were immune, and they buried all the bodies?" Horace suggested.**

**"And where are those people now?" Gilan asked. Horace shrugged.**

**"Maybe they were so sad that they couldn't bear to live here anymore," he said, trying to keep his theory alive a little longer.**

"Points for persistence," Sir Rodney said, trying to hide a grin. He wasn't trying very hard.

**Gilan shook his head.**

**"Horace, whatever it was that drove the people away from here, it wasn't the plague." He glanced at the rapidly darkening sky. "It's getting late. We'll take a look around, then find a place to stay the night."**

**"Here?" said Will, his voice cracking with nerves. "In the village?"**

**Gilan nodded. "Unless you want to camp out in the hills," he suggested. "There's precious little shelter and it usually rains at night in these parts. Personally, I'd rather spend the night under a roof - even a deserted one."**

**"But…" Will began and then could find no rational way to continue.**

**"I am sure your horse would rather spend the evening under cover than out in the rain too," Gilan added gently, and that tipped the balance with Will. His basic instinct was to look after Tug, and it was hardly fair to condemn the pony to a wet, uncomfortable night in the hills just because his owner was afraid of a few empty houses.**

Halt caught Will's eye and nodded almost imperceptibly. Will beamed. Alyss smiled and looped her arm around her husband's.

**He nodded and swung down from the saddle.**


	43. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will reads chapter eight of The Burning Bridge. Baron Arald and Halt almost go to war. King Duncan isn't impressed with either of them.

Crowley passed the book to Will, who read the first line to himself and immediately started sniggering. Alyss peered over his shoulder and smiled a trifle smugly.

**"Into his own moat, you say?" said Sir Rodney.**

About half the table either groaned or cracked up laughing.

Baron Arald frowned at his friend, determined to be in a foul mood for the rest of the chapter. "You could sound less admiring."

Sir Rodney shrugged. "I can't say he didn't deserve it."

**He paused to think about the fact. Lady Pauline noticed that he didn't seem overly shocked by Halt's action. If anything, there was a look of grim satisfaction on his face. The Baron frowned at Rodney's tacit approval.**

Baron Arald did the same now.

**"I know the man deserved it," he said, "but we can't have people going around throwing knights into the moat. It's not…diplomatic."**

**Lady Pauline raised one elegant eyebrow. "Indeed not, sir," she said.**

"You would know," Crowley said cheerfully, enjoying this all far too much.

**"And Halt has been altogether too high-handed about it all," he continued. "I am going to have to speak to him about it. Most severely."**

"I tremble in anticipation," Halt said, completely failing to tremble or anticipate in any way, shape, or form.

Baron Arald glared at him. "Would it _kill_ you to just -"

Sir Rodney put a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, before the Baron could actually leap across the table and try to strangle Halt (read: get impaled on one of Halt's knives). "Easy," he murmured. "It's all in the past."

"Not anymore, it's not," Baron Arald muttered, but he subsided.

**"Someone certainly should," Pauline agreed, and Rodney grunted a reluctant assent.**

**"He definitely needs taking in hand."**

"Do I, now?" Halt said, will all the obstinate stubbornness he could muster. "Hmm."

It was Sir Rodney's turn to glare across the table.

**"You wanted to see me, my lord?" said a familiar voice, and they all turned guilty toward the door, which Rodney had left open when he barged in.**

**Halt stood there, clad in his gray-and-green mottled cloak, his face half hidden in the shadows of the deep cowl. It was uncanny, the Baron thought, how the man could appear almost without a sound. Now Arald, like his two department heads, was conscious that he had been caught talking about Halt behind his back.**

Halt's flat stare conveyed his feelings on the matter eloquently. Will hunched down in his chair a bit and continued reading in a slightly subdued voice.

**He flushed in embarrassment, while Sir Rodney cleared his throat noisily. Only Lady Pauline appeared unconcerned - and she had a lifetime of practice at appearing unconcerned.**

The flat stare turned to Lady Pauline, who remained unruffled. The whole incident was something of a sore point between the group of friends - especially Halt and Baron Arald, who both felt they had been treated unfairly at the other - and it had never been addressed.

**"Aaahhhh…yes…Halt. Of course. Of course. Come in, won't you? Shut the door behind you, there's a good fellow."**

**As he said these last words, Baron Arald shot a baleful glance at Sir Rodney, who shrugged guiltily.**

Both of these actions repeated in the present day.

**Halt nodded greetings to Lady Pauline and Sir Rodney, then moved to stand before the Baron's massive desk.**

**There was a long and increasingly awkward silence as the Ranger stood waiting. Arald cleared his throat several times, not sure where to begin. Inevitably, it was Lady Pauline who broke the impasse.**

Alyss's chin lifted a little. "Of course it was."

Lady Pauline smiled at her protege, who beamed back.

**"I imagine you're wondering why the Baron asked to see you, Halt," she said, relieving the tension in the room and forcing Halt to say something - anything - at the same time.**

**The Ranger, taciturn as ever, glanced at Pauline, then the Baron, and replied in as few words as possible.**

King Duncan sighed, rubbing his forehead and silently sympathizing with his Baron.

**"Yes, my lord."**

**But it was a start and now Baron Arald had been given a chance to gather his thoughts and overcome his embarrassment. He brandished the letter in Halt's general direction.**

Halt's mouth thinned. Lady Pauline nudged him gently under the table and murmured something in his ear that nobody else caught.

**"This…" He managed in time not to say _brouhaha_ again. The word was being grossly overused, he thought.**

Halt snorted. Baron Arald glared at him, completely missing the fact that Sir Rodney's mouth was twitching traitorously.

**"This…business with Sir Digby, Halt. It's just no good. No good at all!"**

Halt snorted again, louder this time. Baron Arald's teeth were grinding loudly.

**"I agree, my lord," Halt said, and the Baron sat back in his chair, a little surprised and quite a bit relieved.**

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. Gilan actually yelped in surprise.

(Will, who had heard the whole story from Alyss beforehand, was muffling his laughter as best he could and being soundly ignored by everyone except his wife.)

"Don't get your hopes up," Baron Arald muttered. Sir Rodney made a pained noise in his throat and nudged his friend's ribs. Baron Arald soundly ignored him.

**"You do?" he said.**

**"Yes, my lord. The man is a nincompoop and a fool."**

Crowley groaned, dragging a hand down his face. _"Halt."_

"Just wait," Halt said, grimly amused. "It gets better."

**"Even worse, he took me for a fool as well. I suppose I can understand that he might want to keep some of his men for the planting season. But to try to hide them in the forest from a Ranger? Why, that was a downright insult. The man need to be taught a lesson."**

Gilan's forehead banged against the table. Jenny immediately began alternately fussing and scolding over the forehead's owner, so Gilan decided to stay there for a bit.

**"But was it your place to teach him, Halt?" the Baron asked.**

"Well, who _else_ was going to do it?" Horace demanded.

Halt smirked.

"Not helping, Horace," Sir Rodney said mildly.

**Now Halt raised one eyebrow in reply.**

**"I don't recall anyone else prepared to do so, my lord."**

**"Perhaps Halt acted in haste - in the heat of the moment?" Lady Pauline interjected, trying to give Halt a graceful way out of the situation.**

"Thank you, by the way." Halt's words were pitched so only Lady Pauline could hear them. The only indication she'd heard him was that she squeezed his hand under the table.

**But the Ranger simply looked at her, then back to the Baron, and said: "No. It was pretty well thought through. And I didn't rush it at all. I took my time."**

Crowley's giggles were slightly hysterical.

**Lady Pauline shrugged. The Baron's expression showed his exasperation. He would be willing to give Halt some leeway in this matter if the Ranger would only allow it. But Halt was obviously determined to be pigheaded.**

"He can't help it," Crowley managed. "It's his natural state."

_"Thank_ you, Crowley," Halt said delicately.

**"Then there are no mitigating circumstances, Halt," he said firmly. "You have acted excessively. I have no choice but to reprimand you."**

**Halt considered the matter before replying. "An awkward situation, my lord, since I am not technically answerable to you."**

"A convenient time for you to remember the technicalities of the chain of command," King Duncan said, leaning forward. "Especially since you have a history of ignoring it."

Halt's face was the picture of innocence. "Your majesty, I would _never."_

"Isn't lying to the King a crime?" Will asked, of nobody in particular.

**"I answer to Ranger command and, ultimately, to the King."**

Baron Arald turned to Crowley plaintively.

Crowley shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm on Halt's side for this one, Arald. Sir Digby's an idiot."

Baron Arald threw up his hands. "Very well, then, I give up. I'm never sending - _asking -_ " he amended, meeting Halt's glare with his own, "- Halt to talk to one of my tenants again."

"And I think we'll all sleep a little more soundly for it," Sir Rodney muttered. He was rewarded with an elbow in the side.

**The Baron opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. Halt was right. As the Ranger attached to Redmont Fief, he was required to cooperate with the Baron, but he was independent of the Baron's authority. That fact and Halt's intentionally unhelpful manner was beginning to get under the Baron's skin.**

"Only beginning?" Jenny said innocently. Gilan's laughter was fortunately muffled by the table, and Baron Arald pretended not to hear the gifted young cook. It was best not to anger the best chef in Redmont, he decided.

**Once again, it was Lady Pauline who suggested a compromise.**

**"Perhaps you could inform Halt, in an official manner, that you are displeased with his actions," she said. The Baron considered the suggestion. It had merit, he thought. But the wording could be a little stronger.**

"Or a lot stronger," Baron Arald seethed.

**"'Displeased' is too mild a word, Pauline. I would rather use the word 'vexed.'"**

**"I would be most discomforted to know you were vexed, my lord," Halt said, with just the slightest trace of mockery in his tone. The Baron turned a piercing glare on him. _Don't take this too far,_ it warned him.**

Halt, just as his past self had, ignored it completely.

**"Then we shall make it 'extremely vexed,' Lady Pauline," he said meaningfully. "I leave it to you to put it in the right form." He looked from to her to Halt. "You will receive the official notification of my displeasure tomorrow, Halt."**

**"I tremble in anticipation, my lord," said Halt, and the Baron's eyebrows drew together angrily.**

Alyss cradled her face in her hands, torn between horrified laughter and curling in on herself in secondhand embarrassment for all involved.

**"I think that will be all, Halt," he said, very obviously restraining his temper. Lady Pauline shook her head slightly at Halt's sardonic tone. He was walking a very fine line, she thought. The Ranger now bowed slightly to Baron Arald, turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.**

Sir Rodney sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "That could have gone better."

"Indeed," said Halt and Baron Arald, in the exact same clipped, restrained tone.

**The Baron let his breath out in an angry sigh.**

**"The man is impossible!" he said. "In all the time I've known him, I have never seen him like this. He's touchy, bad-tempered, sarcastic!"**

"Are you sure that's not just normal Halt?" Gilan asked innocently, have facilitated the breakup of his forehead and the table.

Jenny smothered her laughter against the inside of her elbow.

**"What on earth is the matter with him?"**

**Sir Rodney shook his head. Like the Baron, he had known Halt for many years, and counted him as a friend.**

Lady Pauline had to give her husband credit - he hid his surprise very well. She squeezed his hand again. This time, Halt squeezed back.

**"Something is obviously bothering him," he said. "But what?"**

**"Perhaps he's lonely," Lady Pauline said thoughtfully, and both men looked at her in amazement.**

Nobody said anything. Nobody looked at either Halt or Lady Pauline either. Will and Alyss were also deliberately avoiding each other's gaze (to keep from bursting out laughing).

Crowley, uncharacteristically, smiled a little sadly.

**"Lonely? Halt?" said Sir Rodney incredulously. "Halt's never been lonely in his life! He lives alone. He likes it that way!"**

"Well, he _did,"_ Cassandra said, and Horace made a strangled choking sound.

King Duncan's composure was remarkable.

**"He did," said Lady Pauline, "but things have been different for the past year or so, haven't they?"**

**"You mean…Will?" the Baron asked, and she nodded.**

**"Think about it. Halt has only ever had two apprentices. There was Gilan, five or six years ago."**

Gilan grinned.

**"And now Will. And he's a rather special young man."**

"No I'm not." Will frowned.

Alyss patted his hand. "Of course not, dear."

**The Baron nodded, not sure she was right but willing to listen. "He's that all right."**

**Lady Pauline was warming to her theme now. "He's amusing and interesting and talkative and cheerful. I should imagine he's brightened Halt's life quite considerably."**

Not that Halt would ever admit it.

**"Not only that," Rodney put in, "but he saved Halt's life as well."**

**"Exactly," said Lady Pauline. "There's a very special bond that's developed between those two. Halt has become as much a surrogate father as a mentor to Will."**

Halt's surprise was hid a little less well this time. Certainly, he'd thought of Will like a son, but he'd never really pieced together that Will might see him as a father. Intellectually he was aware, of course, but it had never quite _sunk in._

**"And now he's sent him away. I think he's missing him. He'd never admit it, but I think he's enjoying having a young person around."**

**She paused to see what the Baron thought. He was nodding agreement.**

**"You could be right, Lady Pauline," he said. "You could be right." He considered the matter for some seconds, then said thoughtfully: "You know, it might be a good idea if you were to have a talk with him."**

**"I, my lord?" said Lady Pauline. "Why would I have more influence over him than anyone else?"**

Will rushed through this next part as quickly as possible, doing his best not to leave any room for comments from the others.

**"Well," said the Baron, "I just thought that since you and he were once…" Something in Lady Pauline's expression stooped him from going further "you know?" he finished weakly.**

**"I'm afraid I don't, my lord," she said. "What is it that I should know?"**

**"Well, it's just that people have always said…you know…that you and Halt were once…."**

**He realized he was floundering and he stopped once more. Lady Pauline was smiling expectantly at him. But the smile didn't reach her eyes. They were like ice. The Baron looked around for help and noticed Sir Rodney. He appealed to him for confirmation.**

**"Rodney, you've heard what people say, haven't you?"**

"Do I look like I have a death wish?" Sir Rodney demanded.

"Trick question, don't answer," Crowley muttered. Baron Arald snorted.

**But the Battlemaster was an experienced campaigner and he knew when a tactical retreat was the wisest course.**

**"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, my lord," he said. "I never listen to idle gossip," he added, a little smugly.**

"I hate you," Baron Arald said flatly.

"No you don't," Sir Rodney said cheerfully.

Baron Arald turned to face him, slowly, his expression still perfectly deadpan. "Don't I?"

Sir Rodney coughed uncomfortably.

**Arald shot him a baleful look. _Just you wait,_ it said. Rodney saw it, read the message there then shrugged. He'd take the Baron's anger over Lady Pauline's any day of the week.**

Baron Arald sulked.

**"A wise policy, Sir Rodney," Lady Pauline told him. Then, turning back to the Baron, she continued, "But perhaps I do have a suggestion that might ease the problem with Halt."**

**The Baron seized the lifeline eagerly. "That's splendid, my lady! Splendid! And in point of fact, that's all I meant when I said that you might talk to him. After all, you are a very wise woman. Very wise."**

**Lady Pauline hid a smile with some difficulty. For a moment, she played with the idea of teasing him further-pretending to equate wisdom with advancing years.**

Baron Arald made a sound like a wounded cat.

**But she felt he had suffered enough. "You're too kind, my lord. Altogether too kind."**

"As are you, my lady," Baron Arald said, his tone slightly dry. Lady Pauline tipped her head toward him, a slight smile on her face.

**The Baron breathed a sigh of relief that the conversation had veered away from dangerous ground. He had handled it very adroitly, he thought. Women were always susceptible to flattery, after all.**

"Don't let your wife hear you say that," Lady Pauline said mildly.

Baron Arald cringed. "Please don't."

**"So what is this excellent idea of yours?" he said, piling it on a little more. Lady Pauline hesitated just long enough to let him know she could see right through him, then continued.**

**"Well, sir, since Halt is missing his apprentice, I thought we might look at replacing young Will for a week or two."**

**"Replace him?" Arald said, puzzled. "We can hardly give Halt a new apprentice for two weeks, my lady."**

**"No, my lord," she agreed. "But I thought I might lend him one of mine."**

**It was Rodney who was first to see where she was heading.**

**"Young Alyss," he said, "the tall blond one?"**

**Lady Pauline inclined her head in his direction and smiled. Sir Rodney found himself wondering about the rumored relationship between Pauline and Halt. She was tall, elegant and graceful. And even now that her blond hair was streaked with gray, she was still an exceptional beauty.**

**"Exactly," she said. "I mentioned I'm planning to send Alyss on her first independent mission. I thought we might ask Halt to escort her. I am sure his presence would be good for her confidence."**

**Baron Arald was tugging thoughtfully at his short beard.**

**"She's a rather solemn lass, isn't she?" he asked, but Lady Pauline shook her head.**

**"On the contrary, my lord, she has a delightfully dry sense of wit. And a beautiful smile. We've been encouraging her to make greater use of it."**

**"And you think a week or so in her company might snap Halt out of this black mood he's in?"**

**"Well, if he's looking after her, it'll take his mind off his own troubles," Lady Pauline replied. "In addition, Alyss is young and free-spirited. I think her company might be enough to cheer up any man. Even grim old Halt," she added, smiling.**

**The Baron smiled too. "She sounds just like her teacher," he said.**

**And this time, it was no idle flattery.**

Halt's scowl softened just a little as he glanced over at his wife.


	44. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Halt's two apprentices are _constantly seeking his approval._

Will passed the book to Cassandra, who turned the page and began reading.

**There were no answers to be found in Pordellath. The three companions went through the village and found the same signs of sudden departure that they had seen at the border post. There was evidence of some hasty packing, but in the majority of houses, most of the occupants' possessions were still in place. Everything spoke of a population that had departed in a hurry, taking what they could carry on their backs and little more. Tools, utensils, clothes, furniture and other personal goods had been left behind. But they could find no clue as to where the people of Pordellath had gone - or why they had departed.**

**As full night closed in, Gilan finally called an end to their search. They returned to the Riadhah's house, where they unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down in the shelter of a small porch at the front of the building.**

**They spent an uneasy night in the house. At least Will did, and he assumed Horace was as uncomfortable as he was. Gilan, for his part, seemed relatively unperturbed, rolling into his cloak and falling instantly asleep when Will relived him after the first watch.**

"Because you're completely insufferable," Will muttered.

Gilan grinned, ignoring the fact that he'd been just as unsettled as Horace and Will. "It's a skill."

**But Gilan's manner was more subdued than normal and Will guessed that the Ranger was more concerned by this baffling turn of events then he was letting on.**

"Gilan? Quiet?" Halt began.

"Perish the thought!" Crowley crowed, grinning hugely.

Halt rolled his eyes as if he hadn't been about to say those very words.

**As he stood his watch, Will was amazed at how much noise a house could make. Doors creaked, floors groaned, the ceiling seemed to sigh with every breath of wind outside. The village itself seemed full of loose items that would bang and clatter as well, bringing Will to a nervous, wide-eyed attention as he sat by the unglazed window in the front room of the house, the wooden shutters hooked back to keep them secure.**

**The moon seemed keen to join in on the subterfuge as well, soaring high above the village and casting deep pools of shadow between the houses of the village. Shadows that seemed to move slightly when you caught sight of them out of the corner of your eye, then stopped as soon as you started directly at them.**

Crowley pulled a face. Conditions like that were good for sneaking - ample distractions made it easier for their cloaks to conceal them - but they played havoc with whoever was on watch.

**More movement came as clouds flew across the face of the moon, alternately causing the main square to be illuminated, then plunged into sudden darkness.**

**Just after midnight, as Gilan had predicted, a steady rain set in and the other noises were joined by the gurgle of running water and the plash-plash-plash of drops falling off eaves and into puddles below.**

One of Halt's eyebrows inched upward slightly. He nodded to Gilan. "Not bad."

**Will woke Horace to take over the watch at around two in the morning. He piled up a stack of cushions and bedcovers on the floor of the main room, wrapped his cloak around him and lay down.**

**Then he lay awake for another hour and a half, listening to the creaks, the groans, the gurgles and the splashes, wondering whether Horace had dropped off to sleep and whether, even now, some unseen horror was creeping up on the house, bloodthirsty and unstoppable.**

Horace made a wounded noise in his throat. "Give me _some_ credit, Will," he said. "I know I'm not a Ranger, but I'm hardly going to fall asleep on watch."

"Especially in those conditions," Gilan added.

**He was still worrying about it when he finally fell asleep, without noticing that he had done so.**

**They were on the road early the following morning. The rain had stopped just before dawn and Gilan was keen to press on to Gwyntaleth,**

"Is _that_ how it's pronounced?" Sir Rodney wondered aloud. "I've only ever seen it written."

Cassandra grinned up at him. "The Celts will tell you my accent's atrocious, but that's about right."

"Gwyntaleth," Sir Rodney muttered. "I'll have to remember that."

**the first large town on their route, and find some answers to the puzzles that they had found so far in Celtica. They had a quick, cold breakfast of hard bread and dried fruit, washed down with icy water from the village well, then saddled up and rode out.**

**They wound down the stony path from the village, taking their time on the uneven surface. But when they hit the main road once more, they urged their horses into a canter. They held the canter for twenty minutes, then rested the horses by riding at a walk for the next twenty. They maintained that alternating pattern through the morning, and the miles went by steadily.**

Sir Rodney made a mental note of that. A Ranger's horse and a knight's battle horse were very different beasts, but Horace's Kicker was no Ranger horse...

His face turned distant as he worked through the logistics of such a pattern applied to a unit of armored cavalry.

**They ate a quick meal in the middle of the day, then rode on. This was the principal mining area of Celtica and they passed at least a dozen coal or iron mines: large black holes cut into the sides of hills and mountains, surrounded by timber shoring and stone buildings. Nowhere, however, did they see any sign of life. It was as if the inhabitants of Celtica had simply vanished from the face of the earth.**

"Technically, most of them had," Horace muttered. Cassandra nodded sadly.

**"They may have deserted their border post, and even their villages," Gilan muttered once, almost once to himself. "But I've never yet met a Celt who would desert a mine while there was an ounce of metal still to be torn from it."**

One corner of King Duncan's mouth twitched.

**Eventually, in midafternoon, they came over a crest and there, in a valley dropping away from them, were the neat rows of stone roofs that formed Gwynaleth township. A small spire in the center of the town marked a temple-the Celts had their own unique religion, which had to do with the gods of fire and iron. A larger tower formed the main defensive position for the town.**

**They were too far away to make out whether there might be any movement of people in the streets. But, as before there was no sign of smoke from the chimneys and, even more significantly, according to Gilan, no noise.**

"No noise?" Jenny asked, frowning. "What do you mean?"

**"Noise?" Horace asked, "What kind of noise?"**

Horace and Jenny exchanged a grin.

**"Banging, hammering, clanking," Gilan answered him briefly.**

"Forges," Baron Arald and Sir Rodney said in unison, exchanging a grin. Crowley just rolled his eyes.

**"Remember, the Celts don't just mine iron ore. They work the iron as well. With the breeze blowing from the southwest as it is, we should be able to hear the forges at work, even from this distance."**

**"Well, let's go see then," Will said, and began to urge Tug forward.**

Halt raised an eyebrow at Will, who flushed.

"Sorry, Halt," he muttered. "Wasn't thinking."

Halt just shrugged. "Of course you weren't," he said mildly. "You were an apprentice. You weren't ready to think."

**Gilan, however, put up a hand to restrain him.**

**"I think perhaps I might go on ahead alone," he said slowly, his eyes never leaving the town in the valley below them.**

Jenny's brow furrowed, and she bit her lip. She leaned over to whisper in Gilan's ear. He nodded, smiling at her reassuringly. Jenny relaxed marginally.

Gilan, for his part, flicked a glance over to Halt. The old Ranger nodded almost imperceptibly.

**Will looked at him, puzzled.**

**"Alone?" he asked, and Gilan nodded.**

**"You noted yesterday that we were making ourselves pretty obvious when we rode into Pordellath, and you were right. Perhaps it's time we become a little more circumspect. Something is going on and I'd like to know what it is."**

**Will had to agree that it made good sense for Gilan to go on alone. After all, he was possibly the best unseen mover in the Ranger Corps, and Rangers were the best unseen movers in the Kingdom.**

Gilan preened. Jenny kicked him lightly.

**Gilan motioned for them to fall back from the crest they were standing on, and down the other side to a spot where a small gully formed a sheltered campsite, out of the wind.**

**"Set up a camp here," he told them. "No fires. We'll have to say with cold rations until we know what's going on. I should be back some time after dark."**

"No coffee," Will mourned. "None at all."

"Tragedy," Halt said, entirely unsympathetic.

**And with that, he wheeled Blaze and trotted her back over the crest and down the road toward Gwyntaleth.**

**Will and Horace took half an hour or so to set up the campsite. There was little to do. They attached their tarpaulin to some scrubby bushes growing out of the stone wall of the gully, weighing down the other end with rocks. At least there were plenty of them.**

"There, you see?" Crowley said cheerfully. "There's always a silver lining!"

"No, there isn't," Cassandra and Will said simultaneously.

Horace leaned over to whisper something in his wife's ear. Cassandra thwacked him lightly on the arm, but silently admitted that he had a point. If she and Will hadn't been captured - and if Halt and Horace hadn't come after them - the Temujai might well have overwhelmed Skandia and made their way to Araluen.

**This gave them a triangular shelter in case the rain set in again. Then they prepared a fireplace in front of the shelter. Gilan had said no fires, but if he arrived back in the middle of the night and changed those orders, they might as well be ready.**

**It took a considerably longer time to stack a supply of firewood. The only real source was the scrubby heather that covered the hillsides. The roots and branches of the bush were tough but highly flammable. The two boys hacked out a reasonable supply, Horace using the small hatchet he carried in his pack and Will his saxe knife. Eventually, with all their housekeeping taken care of, they sat on either side of the empty fireplace, backs leaned against rocks. Will spent a few minutes running his sharpening stone over the saxe knife, restoring its razor-sharp edge.**

**"I really prefer camping in forest areas," Horace said, shifting his back for the tenth time against the unyielding rock behind him.**

**Will grunted in reply. But Horace was bored and kept on talking, more for the sake of having something to do than because he really wanted to.**

"You never could take hints," Will muttered.

"Because you have _such_ a spotless record in that regard," Alyss murmured, recalling the multiple times he'd been completely oblivious of her affections for him.

**"After all, in a forest, you have lots of firewood, ready to hand. It just falls out of the trees for you."**

**"Not while you wait," Will disagreed. He too was talking more for the sake of it than anything else.**

Horace made a _there, you see_ gesture in Will's direction.

**"No. Not while you wait. Usually it's already happened before you arrive," Horace said.**

"Very convenient," Baron Arald agreed. "Unless it's winter and everything's soaked through."

"Or spring," Sir Rodney put in thoughtfully, "when everything's soaked through."

"Or late autumn." Baron Arald grinned. "When everything's -"

Mercifully, King Duncan interrupted. "Thank you, gentlemen. Now, we were reading...?"

**"Plus in a forest, you've got pine needles or leaves on the ground. And that makes for a softer sleeping place. And there are logs and trees to sit on and lean against. And they have a lot fewer sharp edges than rock."**

"Find a different rock," Crowley suggested.

"There _were_ no other rocks!" Horace protested.

"Didn't you just finish complaining about the abundance of rocks?" Gilan recalled.

Horace huffed. "There were no other _conveniently located_ rocks."

**Again, he wriggled his back to a temporarily more comfortable spot. He glanced up at Will, rather hoping that the apprentice Ranger might disagree with him. Then they could argue to pass the time. Will, however, merely grunted again. He inspected the edge of his saxe knife, slid the knife into its scabbard and lay back. Uncomfortable, he sat up again, undid the knife belt and draped it over his pack, along with his bow and quiver. Then he lay back, his head on a flat piece of stone. He closed his eyes. The sleepless night he had spent had left him drained and flat.**

**Horace sighed to himself, then took out his sword and began honing its edge-quite unnecessarily, as it was already razor-sharp.**

Sir Rodney grimaced. Such a practice could actually damage the blade by weakening the steel or introducing imperfections instead of smoothing them out.

**But it was something to do. He rasped away, glancing occasionally at Will to see if his friend was asleep. For a moment, he thought he was, but then the smaller boy suddenly squirmed around, sat up and reached for his cloak. Bundling it up, he put it on the flat stone he was using as a headrest, then lay back again.**

**"You're right about forests," he said crankily. "Much more comfortable places to camp."**

Sir Rodney just sighed. The pine needles made for decent padding, true enough - but so did grass, if you knew what you were doing. Then again, there apparently was no real grass in Celtica.

**Horace said nothing. He decided his sword was sharp enough and slid it back into its oiled leather scabbard, leaning the sheathed weapon against the rock face beside him.**

**He watched Will again, as he tried to find a more comfortable spot. No matter how he twisted and squirmed, there was always a pebble or a piece of rock poking into his back or side. Five or ten minutes passed, then Horace finally said:**

**"Want to practice? It'll past the time."**

Both Horace and Will winced. Crowley facepalmed. "You two are supposed to be _on watch."_

Sir Rodney sighed, but said nothing. Horace hadn't been an experienced campaigner then - technically he still wasn't, if only by virtue of his age - so he couldn't really hold it against him. That didn't mean he couldn't be disappointed.

**Will opened his eyes and considered the idea. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that he was never going to get to sleep on this hard, stony ground.**

**"Why not?" He rummaged in his pack for his practice weapons, then joined Horace on the far side of the tent, where he was scraping a practice circle in the sandy gully floor. The two boys took up their positions, then, at a nod from Horace, they began.**

**Will was improving, but Horace was definitely the master at this exercise.**

Sir Rodney grinned at his star pupil.

**Will couldn't help admiring the speed and balance he showed as he wielded the long stick in a dazzling series of backhands, forehands, side cuts and overhands. Furthermore, when he knew he had beaten Will's defensive posture, he would, at the last moment, hold back from whacking him. Instead, he would lightly touch the spot where his blow would have fallen, to demonstrate the point.**

**He didn't do it with any sense of superiority either. Weapons practice, even with wooden weapons, was a serious part of Horace's life nowdays. It wasn't something to crow about when you were better than your opponent. Horace had learned only too well in dozens of practice bouts at the Battleschool that it never paid to underestimate an opponent.**

**Instead, he used his superior ability to help Will, showing him how to anticipate strokes, teaching him the basic combinations that all swordsmen used and the best way to defeat them.**

**As Will ruefully acknowledged, knowing how to do it was one thing. Actually doing it was an entirely different matter. He realized how much his former enemy -**

Both Horace and Will winced.

**\- had matured and wondered if the same changes were evident in himself. He didn't think so. He didn't feel any different. And whenever he saw himself in a mirror, he didn't seem to look any different either.**

**"Your left hand is dropping too far," Horace pointed out as they paused between bouts.**

**"I know," Will said. "I'm expecting a side cut and I want to be ready for it."**

"Don't be that ready," Sir Rodney said dryly. "Or your opponent will notice."

**Horace shook his head. "That's all very well, but if you drop it too far, it's easy for me to feint a side cut, then swing up into an overhand. See?"**

**He showed Will the action he was describing, beginning the sword in a wide sideways sweep, then, with a powerful wrist movement, taking it up into a high-sweeping downward stroke. He stopped the wooden blade a few inches from Will's head and the Ranger apprentice saw that his counterstroke would have been far too late.**

**"Sometimes I think I'll never learn these things," he said. Horace patted him encouragingly on the shoulder.**

**"Are you kidding?" he asked. "You're improving every day. And besides, I could never shoot or use those throwing knives the way you do."**

**Even while they had been on the road, Gilan had insisted that Will practice his Ranger skills as often as was practical.**

Gilan turned anxiously to Halt. The older man nodded almost imperceptibly and Gilan relaxed. He had been worried about overworking the two apprentices, wearing them out to the point of leaving them disadvantaged in a fight.

**Horace had been impressed, to say the least, when he had seen how adept the smaller boy had become. Several times, he had shuddered when he thought what might happen if he had to face an archer such as Will.**

**His accuracy with the bow was uncanny, as far as Horace was concerned. He knew that Will could place arrows into every gap in his armor if he chose. Even into the narrow visor slit of a full-face jousting helmet.**

"Let's not go that far," Halt said dryly, recalling his duel against certain Gallican knight.

Will, who was unaware of that particular adventure, made an indignant noise in his throat.

"Not without some practice, at any rate," Halt added.

**What he didn't appreciate was that Will's accuracy was nothing more than average as far as Ranger standards were concerned.**

"Bit like Skandians and skill at arms, really," Sir Rodney put in.

**"Let's try it again," Will suggested wearily. But another voice interrupted them.**

**"Let's not, little boys. Let's put down our nasty sharp sticks and stand very still, shall us?"**

Halt's brows descended into a thunderous scowl. Sir Rodney mouth had thinned into a hard line and there was a brittle, angry light in his eyes.

**The two apprentices whirled around at the words. There, at the mouth of the small U-shaped gully where they had built their camp, stood two ragged-looking figures. Both were heavily bearded and unkempt and both were dressed in a strange mixture of clothing- some of it tattered and threadbare, while some items were new and obviously very costly.**

**The taller of the two wore a richly brocaded satin vest, but it was thick with dirt. The other sported a scarlet hat with a bedraggled feather in it. He also carried an iron-spiked wooden club, holding it in a hand that was swathed in a dirty bandage. His companion had a long sword, jagged and nicked along the edges.**

Sir Rodney's scowl deepened.

**He flourished it now at the two boys.**

**"Come on now, you boys. Sharp sticks're fanger-orius for the likes of you," he said, and let go a hoarse, guttural laugh.**

**Will's hand dropped automatically to reach for the saxe knife, encountering nothing.**

Halt drew in a measured breath through his teeth. "You didn't have your saxe knife?"

"Put it down with my bow," Will mumbled, staring at his feet through the table.

Halt closed his eyes and muttered a prayer — or maybe an oath — to a few choice Skandian deities. "And your throwing knife?"

"...also with my bow."

"But you had your knife scabbard on, of course," Halt said.

**With a sinking feeling, he realized that his knife belt, bow and quiver were all neatly piled on the far side of the fireplace —**

"Will..." Halt ground out. "You are very lucky to be alive."

"Knew that already," Will muttered, still staring at his feet.

**...where they had been sitting. The two intruders would stop him before he could reach them. He cursed himself for his carelessness. Halt would be furious, he thought.**

**Then, looking at the sword and club, he realized that Halt's annoyance might be the least of his worries.**

* * *


	45. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyss reads Chapter Nine of the Burning Bridge. Halt's reputation is quickly deteriorating.

Cassandra passed the book to Alyss, who accepted it with a smile and a quiet word of thanks.

**The girl was smiling at him again. Halt sensed it.**

"It's the Ranger magic at work again," Gilan joked.

Crowley laughed. "You know, I think that specific skill might be unique to Halt."

**It was as if he could actually _feel_ the smile radiating at him. He knew if he were to glance sideways at her, where she was riding just a few paces away from him, he would see it once more.**

But he couldn't help himself. He looked and there it was. Wide, friendly and infectious. In spite of himself, it made him want to smile back in return and that would never do. Halt hadn't spent years cultivating a grim, unapproachable manner just to have it dispelled by this girl and her smile.

Crowley threw his hands up in despair. "It won't kill you, I promise. Might crack your face, though," he added.

Alyss giggled.

Halt let out a long-suffering sigh.

**He glared at her instead. Alyss's smile widened.**

**"Why, Halt," she said cheerfully, "what a grim face that is to ride alongside."**

"Isn't it?" Gilan grinned. "Now imagine riding alongside it for five years."

Will snorted. Crowley cackled. Even King Duncan smiled slightly.

**They had left Castle Redmont the previous day for the short ride to Cobram Castle. He had agreed readily when Lady Pauline had asked him to escort Alyss on her first assignment — in point of fact, he would have agreed to most things suggested by the head of the Diplomatic Corps.**

Everyone's thought processes immediately took a trip to the world's deepest gutter.

 _"Anything,_ Halt?" Crowley's voice was sly.

Lady Pauline beamed brilliantly, pointedly adjusting the dagger at her hip. "Anything at all."

**Of course, as a Diplomatic Courier, Alyss rated an official guard of two mounted men-at-arms, and they rode a few yards to the rear. But Pauline had suggested that Alyss might need advice or counsel in dealing with Sir Montague.**

Halt snorted. "I doubt _that."_

**Halt had agreed to provide it if necessary.**

**What Lady Pauline hadn't mentioned was Alyss's innate friendliness and the fact that she was so eminently** _likeable_ **. And cheerful, he thought, and that reminded him of someone else. He had been missing Will's lively presence over the past week or so, he admitted. After years of living by himself, attending to the secret and sometimes frightening business of the kingdom, he had enjoyed the light and laughter that Will brought to his life. Now Will was far away, on his way to the Celtic court, and Halt himself had sent him there.**

Halt's wince was so small it was invisible, but Lady Pauline could not be fooled. She linked her hand with his and leaned briefly into his side.

Halt released a breath. He knew it wasn't his fault. He knew Will didn't blame him. But sometimes it felt like he should.

**He realized that the boy's absence felt a void in his life. Reluctantly, he told himself that he must be growing old — and sentimental.**

"Old, I'll believe," Gilan said, grinning widely.

Halt rolled his eyes.

**Now here was this girl, barely sixteen but already poised and sure of herself,**

Alyss looked up and beamed. "Why, thank you Halt."

**chiding him gently for his black mood and grim countenance and fixing him with that damn smile.**

**"And such a silent face as well," she mused to herself. He realized that he had been ill-mannered and she didn't deserve that.**

"Certainly not," Lady Pauline agreed.

**"My apologies, Lady Alyss," he said curtly. She frowned at his formality.**

**"Oh, come now, Halt. Is that any way for friends to speak to each other?"**

**He glanced at her now. The smile was still lurking there at the corners of her mouth. The frown was an artifice. She was gently teasing him, he realized, and he determined that he would not give her the satisfaction of rising to her bait.**

"Good luck with that," Will grumbled, pretending to be annoyed. Alyss merely laughed and looped her arm around her husband's shoulders before continuing to read.

**"Are we friends, Lady Alyss?" he said, and she inclined her head thoughtfully. The action reminded him of Lady Pauline and he realized how much this girl was like her mentor.**

"More compliments?" Baron Arald raised an eyebrow.

**He remembered Pauline when she was much younger.**

Crowley was pretending to hide a smirk.

**It could have been her riding beside him, he thought.**

**"I would hope so, Halt. After all, I am a friend of Will's and I'm apprenticed to one of** _your_ **oldest friends, I believe. Doesn't this give us some kind of…special relationship?"**

**"I am your escort, Lady," he replied and his tone left no doubt that the conversation should end there.**

Sir Rodney sighed. "Well, you tried.

Alyss merely smiled.

**With most people, that would have been the result. Halt could be quite a forbidding figure when he chose. And many people clung to the belief that Rangers dabbled in black magic, and so were people who should not be annoyed.**

"Not that you do anything to dispel that belief," Crowley grumbled.

Halt shrugged. "Sometimes it's useful when people think you'll seal them up in an oak tree."

**Obviously, however, this girl wasn't one of those people.**

Alyss's smile took on a faintly smug edge.

**"As you say, you're my escort. And I'm very grateful that you are. But that's not to say that we can't be friends as well. After all, it's quite daunting to be on my first assignment." She paused, and then said quietly, "I'm not altogether sure that I'm up to it, as a matter of fact."**

"What?" Will turned to look at her, gaping. Her arm fell off his shoulders. "Of course you were!"

"Only one question," Halt noted. "That's almost impressive." One eyebrow quirked upward. "Almost."

**"Of course you are!" Halt said immediately. "Pauline knows her business. If you weren't 'up to it', as you put it, she would never have entrusted the mission to you. She thinks very highly of you, you know," he added.**

Lady Pauline inclined her head with a slight smile. "Just so."

**"She's an amazing woman," Alyss said, and the admiration in her voice was obvious. "I've looked up to her for years, you know. She's succeeded so well in what is generally regarded as a man's world."**

**Halt nodded agreement. "Amazing is a good word for her."**

"Aww, Halt." Crowley was grinning again. Halt wondered if he'd ever stopped. "How sweet."

**"She's courageous, honest and enormously intelligent. Smarter than most men too."**

King Duncan briefly recalled all the times various barons had almost done very foolish things, only for their partners to swoop in and take over. He chuckled. When Cassandra looked at him questioningly, he mouthed _Baron Callum._ She quickly stifled a giggle behind her hand.

**"Baron Arald saw those qualities in her years ago. She was the one who convinced him that women are more suited to the diplomatic role than men."**

**"I have heard people say that. Why does he think that way?"**

**Halt shrugged. "He feels women are more inclined to talk things through, whereas men tend to resort to physical methods more quickly."**

"That _does_ tend to happen when most of the men are trained in combat," Lady Pauline put in pointedly. "Particularly when few women are."

Sir Rodney frowned again, his mind jumping back to Battleschool logistics. He'd considered accepting girls to train as knights before, but something always seemed to get in the way. Perhaps Lady Pauline could help when they returned to Redmont.

**"So, for example, Lady Pauline would never resort to throwing someone into a moat if they were being objectionable?" she said, and Halt glanced up at her sharply. Her face was totally deadpan. Pauline had trained her well, he thought.**

**"No," he agreed. "But I didn't say that she's always right."**

Lady Pauline turned to her husband, one elegant eyebrow raised. "Am I not?"

Halt shrugged. "The vast majority of the time, yes. But not on the subject of moat-throwing."

**"Some people deserve to be thrown into moats."**

**He realized now that he had been chattering on with her for some minutes, in spite of his determination to maintain his usual grim, tight-lipped manner.**

Crowley's grin was so wide that Horace was worried his face might split in half.

**She had drawn him out like an angler luring a fish to the hook, he realized, and he wasn't sure how she had done it. And now she was smiling at him again. He harrumphed noisily and turned away to scan the woods on either side.**

"And saw nothing," Sir Rodney said, a little flatly.

Halt merely shrugged. "Can't be too careful."

**This far to the west, there was little danger to be expected. And his horse Abelard would alert him if there were any enemies or wild beasts lurking in the bushes nearby. But scanning the terrain gave him an opportunity to break of the conversation.**

Will thought about all the times Halt had done something similar to him and was mildly offended that he hadn't picked up on it by now.

**Alyss watched him curiously. She had seen him around Redmont for years, of course. But when Lady Pauline had introduced them the day before, she had been surprised to realize that he was at least a head shorter than she was. A lot of men were, though. She was an exceptionally tall girl and she carried herself erect. But Halt had an amazing reputation — a seven-foot-tall reputation, she mused. He was famous throughout the Kingdom and one tended to think of him as a larger-than-life character. Seen close-up, he was surprisingly small in stature.**

Halt's expression soured.

**Like Will, she thought, and that set her to wondering.**

**"What qualities does a Ranger need, Halt?" she asked.**

**He glanced back at her. Once bitten, twice shy, he thought. She wasn't going to draw him out into an extended conversation again.**

Alyss merely smiled at the grizzled old ranger.

**"A propensity for silence is a good one," he said, and she smiled, genuinely amused at something.**

**"Somehow I can't see Will managing that," she said.**

Will made an offended noise and looked at Alyss with wounded eyes. Alyss laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.

**She and Will had grown up together as orphans in the Castle Ward. He was probably her oldest friend. In spite of himself, Halt's lips twitched in what was almost a smile.**

Baron Arald's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's as close as we'll ever get, I suspect."

**"No he tends to chatter, doesn't he?" he agreed. Then, realizing that she might think he was criticizing the boy, he continued quickly. "But that's part of being a Ranger as well. He's always asking questions. He's always curious, always read to learn more. A good Ranger needs that. Eventually, he'll learn to curb his tongue a little."**

Halt sighed dramatically. "How wrong I was."

Will just grinned.

**"Not entirely, I hope," said Alyss. "I can't imagine Will becoming grim and forbidding and taciturn, like —" she hesitated and amended what she was about to say, "— some people."**

**Halt raised one eyebrow at her. "Some people?" he repeated, and she shrugged.**

**"Nobody particular in mind," she said.**

"Liar." Gilan grinned.

Alyss smiled and shrugged. "Such is the nature of diplomacy."

Cassandra laughed.

**Then, changing tack, she said, "He's very brave, isn't he? I mean, you must be proud of what he's done."**

Halt hid a smile.

**Halt nodded. "He has true courage," he said.**

Will flushed delightedly.

**"He can feel fear, he can be afraid. But it doesn't stop him from doing what he has to. Mindless courage isn't any sort of real courage at all."**

Sir Rodney nodded in agreement.

**"You have trained him well," Alyss said, but Halt shook his head.**

**"The training is important. But the qualities have to be there from the beginning. You can't teach courage and honesty. There's a basic openness and lack of malice in Will."**

Will flushed. Alyss felt a surge of pride.

**"You know," she said confidentially, "when I was a child, I always said I was going to marry him."**

Now it was Alyss's turn to flush.

**Inwardly, he smiled at her words.** _When I was a child_ **. She was barely more than a child now, he thought. Then he changed his mind. She was a Courier. A Diplomatic apprentice. She wore the bronze laurel branch and that meant she was very much more than a child.**

"Quite so," Lady Pauline agreed. Alyss's flush deepened.

**"You could do a lot worse," he said finally, and she glanced across at him.**

**"Really?" she said. "Do you think diplomats and Rangers make a good match, Halt?"**

Baron Arald sniggered. Halt glared at him, but effect was ruined by Crowley giggling in the background.

**Her tone was just too innocent, too casual. He knew exactly what she was getting at and this time he wasn't going to be drawn. He was not going to discuss any relationship that might or might not have existed between himself and the beautiful Lady Pauline.**

"Aren't you sweet?" Pauline whispered to Halt. A lesser man might have blushed.

**He met her gaze very evenly for some moments, then said, "I think we might stop here for lunch. This is as good a place as any."**

**Alyss's mouth twitched with a smile again. But this time it was a slightly rueful one.**

**"You can't blame a girl for trying," she said.**

"Yes, I can," Halt corrected her.


	46. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Rodney reads Chapter Ten of The Burning Bridge. He is not amused.

Alyss passed the book to Sir Rodney, who accepted it with a quiet word of thanks.

**Will felt Horace's hand on his shoulder as the bigger boy began to pull him back from the two bandits.**

**"Back away, Will," Horace said quietly.**

**The man with the club laughed. "Yes, Will, you back away. You stay away from the nasty little bow I see over there. We don't hold no truck with bows, do us, Carney?"**

_"Do us."_ Lady Pauline's lips were curled in something dangerously close to a sneer.

**Carney grinned at his companion. "That we don't, Bart, that we don't." He looked back at the two boys and frowned angrily. "Didn't we tell you to drop those sticks?" he demanded, his voice rising in pitch and very, very ugly in tone. Together, the two men began to advance across the clearing.**

**Horace's grip now tightened and he jerked Will to one side, sending him sprawling.**

"To draw their attention?" Jenny guessed, looking at Horace.

Horace nodded. "That, and to get Will out of the way."

**As he fell, he saw Horace turn to the rocks behind him and grab up his sword.**

Sir Rodney grimaced beneath his mustache. It wasn't that Horace had done anything wrong — in fact, he was doing excellently — but the idea of turning one's back to an enemy always put him on edge.

**He flicked it once and the scabbard sailed clear of the blade. The easy action alone should have warned Bart and Carney that they were facing someone who knew more than a little about handling weapons.**

"Thanks to you both," Horace said, nodding to Gilan and Sir Rodney in turn.

**But neither of them was overly bright.**

"That is becoming _rapidly_ apparent," Cassandra sneered, looping her arm firmly around Horace's.

**They simply saw a boy of about sixteen. A big boy, perhaps, but still a boy. A child, really, with a grown-up weapon in his hand.**

"Didn't we have this conversation last chapter?" Cassandra asked, tilting her head. "In regards to Alyss, at least?"

Alyss laughed. "So we did."

**"Oh, dear," said Carney. "Have we got our daddy's sword with us?"**

Horace snorted. "Now _that_ would be an accomplishment."

Will, Alyss, and Jenny all laughed. Baron Arald hid a grin. _Ward humor._

**Horace eyed him, suddenly very calm. "I'll give you one chance," he said, "to turn around and leave now."**

**Bart and Carney exchanged mock terrified looks.**

**"Oh, dear, Bart," said Carney. "It's our one chance. What'll us do?"**

**"Oh, dear," said Bart. "Let's run away."**

**They began to advance on Horace and he watched them coming.**

King Duncan sighed. "Well, you tried."

**He had the practice stick in his left hand now and the sword in his right. He tensed, balanced on the balls of his feet as they advanced on him, Carney with the rusty, ragged-edged sword —**

Sir Rodney's lip curled in disgust.

**— snaking in front of him and Bart with the spiked cudgel laid back on his shoulder, ready for use.**

**Will scrambled to his feet and began to move toward his weapons. Seeing the action, Carney moved to cut him off.**

The muscles in Alyss's shoulders tightened briefly, but the feel of Will's hand in hers let the tension ease — just a little bit.

**He hadn't gone a pace when Horace attacked.**

**He darted forward and his sword flashed in an overhead cut at Carney. Startled by the sheer speed of the apprentice warrior's move, Carney barely had time to bring his own blade up in a clumsy parry. Thrown off balance and totally unprepared for the surprising force and authority behind the stroke, he stumbled backward and sprawled in the dust.**

Sir Rodney snorted. "Pathetic."

**In the same instant, Bart, seeing his companion in trouble, steeped forward and swung the heavy club in a vicious arc at Horace's unprotected left side. His expectation was for Horace to try to leap back to avoid the blow.**

"Is that the usual reaction?" Jenny asked. "For a warrior, I mean."

Gilan shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't tell you. Not for skilled ones, but for the average Battleschool trainee..."

Sir Rodney raised an eyebrow. "What're you implying about my Battleschool?" he grumbled good-naturedly. "But it depends on how long they've been training. Second and third years can be quick to dodge instead of parry. Beyond that, it's a matter of personal preference, circumstances, and nerve."

**Instead, the apprentice warrior stepped forward.**

He nodded at Horace. "Not many would think to step forward."

Horace flushed, shrugging. "One of the instructors mentioned it."

**The practice stick in his left hand flicked up and outward, catching the heavy cudgel in its downward arc and deflecting it away from its intended line. The club's spiked head thudded dully into the stony ground and Bart let go a deep** **_whoof_ ** **of surprise, the impact jarring his arm from shoulder to wrist.**

**But Horace wasn't finished yet. He continued the forward lunge, and now he and Bart stood shoulder to shoulder. It was too close for Horace to use the blade of his sword. Instead, he swung his right fist, hammering the heavy brass pommel of his sword hilt into the side of Bart's head.**

Baron Arald winced, rubbing his temple. He'd been on the receiving end of a pommel strike before.

King Duncan's eyebrows shot up. He turned to smile at his son-in-law. "Nicely done."

**The bandit's eyes glazed and he collapsed to his knees, semiconscious, head swaying slowly from side to side.**

**Carney, backpedaling furiously through the sand, had regained his feet. Now he stood watching Horace, puzzled and angry, unable to grasp the fact that he and his companion had been bested by a mere boy.**

Sir Rodney snorted.

**Luck, he thought. Sheer dumb luck!**

"Dumb indeed," Cassandra said cheerfully.

**His lips formed into a snarl and he gripped the sword tightly, advancing once more on the boy, mouthing threats and curses as he went.**

"And where were you, during all this?" Halt asked, looking at Will.

Will grinned. "Waiting for an opportunity."

**Horace stood his ground, waiting. Something in the boy's calm gaze made Carney hesitate. He should have gone with his first instincts and given the fight away then and there. But anger overcame him and he started forward again.**

King Duncan sighed. "Idiot."

**By now, he was paying no attention to Will. The Ranger's apprentice darted around the campsite, grabbing his bow and quiver and hastily stepping his right foot through the recurve to brace the bow against his left while he slid the string up into its notch.**

**Quickly, he selected an arrow and nocked it to the string. He was about to draw back when a calm voice behind him said:**

**"Don't shoot him. I'd rather like to see this."**

Sir Rodney whipped his head around to glare at Gilan. "What the hell took you so long?"

Gilan shrugged. "I would have intervened if they'd been in actual trouble."

**Startled, he turned to find Gilan behind him, almost invisible in the folds of his Ranger cloak, leaning nonchalantly on his longbow.**

Baron Arald sighed. "You truly are terrible."

**"Gilan!" he began, but the Ranger made a sign for silence.**

**"Just let him go," he said softly. "He'll be fine as long as we don't distract him."**

Sir Rodney's face was still set in a scowl. The fact that Gilan was correct did not help.

**"But —" Will began desperately, looking to where his friend was facing a full-grown, very angry man. Sensing his concern, Gilan hurried to reassure him.**

**"Horace will handle him," he said. "He really is very good, you know. A natural, if ever I saw one."**

Horace grinned delightedly, his face reddening. Gilan winked at him.

**"That bit with the practice stick and the hilt strike was sheer poetry. Lovely improvisation!"**

Horace's flush deepened. Jenny hid a laugh.

**Shaking his head in wonder, Will turned back to the fight. Now Carney attacked, hacking and lunging and cutting with a blind fury and terrifying power.**

Sir Rodney was impassive, caught between anger at Gilan — a fight could go wrong in the space of a heartbeat, and even a Ranger couldn't shoot that fast.

Halt, on the other hand, trusted Gilan's judgement — and Horace's skill.

King Duncan and Baron Arald were on the fence. On one hand, they understood Gilan's reasons and knew how skilled Horace was. On the other, it would've only taken a bit of luck on Carney's part for everything to go drastically sideways.

**Horace gradually gave way before him, his own sword moving in small, semicircular actions that blocked every cut and hack and thrust and jarred Carney's wrist and elbow with the strength and impenetrability of his defense. All the while, Gilan was whispering an approving commentary beside Will.**

**"Good boy!" he said. "See how he's letting the other fellow start proceedings? Gives him an idea of how skillful he might be. Or otherwise. My God, Horace has the timing of that defensive swing just about perfect! Look at that! And that! Terrific!"**

Horace was growing redder and redder.

**Now Horace had apparently decided not to back away any farther. Continuing to parry Carney's every stroke with obvious ease, he stood his ground, letting the bandit expend his strength like the sea breaking on a rock.**

"Of course, the rock does wear away over time," Will added, remembering a few of his conversations with the Seacliffe scholars.

"Thank you, Will," Horace said dryly.

**As he stood, Carney's strokes became slower and more ragged. His arm was beginning to ache with the effort of wielding the long, heavy sword. He was really more accustomed to using a knife to the back of most of his opponents —**

"Coward," Sir Rodney spat contemptuously.

Halt shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. A knife in the back can expedite matters."

**— and he hadn't looked for this engagement to go past one or two crushing, hacking strokes to break down the boy's guard before killing him. But his most devastating blows had been flicked aside with apparent contempt.**

Horace raised an eyebrow. _"Apparent_ contempt?"

**He swung again, losing his balance in the follow-through. Horace's blade caught his, spun it in a circle, holding it with his own, then let it rasp down its length until their crosspieces locked.**

**They stood there, eye to eye, Carney's chest heaving, Horace absolutely calm and totally in control.**

A slight sigh escaped Sir Rodney's lips. Yes, Horace was one of — if not _the_ — finest swordsmen of his generation. But luck was a fickle bitch, and he disliked the idea of leaving a life to chance any more than it had to be.

**The first worm of fear appeared in Carney's stomach as he realized that, boy or not, he was hopelessly outmatched in this contest.**

Baron Arald nudged Sir Rodney, who _harrumphed_ grudgingly.

**And at that point, Horace went on the attack.**

**He drove his shoulder into Carney's chest, unlocking their blades and sending the bandit staggering back. Then, calmly, Horace advanced, swinging his sword in confusing, terrifying combinations. Side, overhead, thrust. Side, side, backhand, overhand.**

Sir Rodney's mouth twitched into a faint smile. He recognized that combination.

**Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Forehand. Backhand.**

**One combination flowed smoothly into the next and Carney scrambled desperately, trying to bring his own blade between himself and the implacable sword that seemed to have a life and an inexhaustible energy all its own.**

Gilan raised an eyebrow at Sir Rodney. "I did tell you."

The most that can be said for Sir Rodney is that his frown didn't get worse.

**He felt his wrist and arm tiring, while Horace's strokes grew stronger and firmer until finally, with a dull and final clang, Horace simply beat the sword from his numbed gasp.**

"Idiot," Cassandra muttered.

**Carney sank to his knees, sweat pouring off him and running into his eyes, chest heaving with exertion, waiting for the final stroke that would end it all.**

**"Don't kill him, Horace!" called Gilan. "I'd like to ask him some questions."**

Sir Rodney had to physically bite his tongue to keep from shouting at Gilan. While there was no other point at which Gilan could have revealed himself without putting Horace at risk, it still made him angry.

**Horace looked up, surprised to see the tall Ranger standing there. He shrugged. He wasn't really the type to kill an opponent in cold blood anyway. He flicked Carney's sword to one side, way out of reach. Then, setting one boot against the defeated bandit's shoulder, he shoved him over in the dust on his side.**

**Carney lay there, sobbing, unable to move. Terrified. Worn-out. Physically and mentally defeated.**

Cassandra snickered.

**"Where did you come from?" Horace asked Gilan indignantly. "And why didn't you give me a hand?"**

"You didn't need one," Halt said simply.

**Gilan grinned at him. "You didn't seem to need one, from what I could see," he replied. Then he gestured behind Horace to where Bart was slowly rising from his kneeling position, shaking his head as the effect of the hilt strike began to wear off.**

**"I think your other friend needs a little attention," he suggested.**

**Horace turned and casually raised his sword, swinging it to clang, flat-bladed, against Bart's skull.**

Will winced in sympathy.

**Another small moan and Bart went face down in the sand.**

**"I really think you might have said something," Horace said.**

**"I would have if you were in trouble," Gilan said.**

Sir Rodney's face flushed red. "I don't care _how_ fast your reactions are —"

Baron Arald laid a hand on his friend's arm, cutting him off without saying a word.

Gritting his teeth, Sir Rodney turned his attention back to the book.

**Then he moved across the clearing to stand over Carney. He seized the bandit by the arm and dragged him upright, frog-marching him across the clearing to throw him, none to gently, against the rock face at the far side. As Carney began to sag forward, there was a hiss of steel on leather and Gilan's saxe knife appeared at his throat, keeping him upright.**

"Always effective," Halt said. Lady Pauline nodded in agreement.

**"It seems these two caught you napping?" Gilan asked Will.**

**The boy nodded, shamefaced. Then, as the full import of the comment sank in, he asked: "Just how long have you been here?"**

Halt sighed. "If it was anyone but Gilan..."

**"Since they arrived," Gilan said. "I hadn't gone far when I saw them skulking through the rocks. So I left Blaze and doubled back here, trailing them. Obviously, they were up to no good."**

**"Why didn't you say something then?" Will asked incredulously.**

**For a moment, Gilan's eyes hardened. "Because you two needed a lesson. You're in dangerous territory, the population seems to have mysteriously disappeared and you stand around practicing sword craft for the world to see and hear."**

**"But," Will stammered, "I thought we were supposed to practice?"**

_"Within reason,_ Will." An edge of disappointment colored Halt's voice.

Will shrank into his seat. "Sorry Halt," he mumbled.

Halt shrugged. "You were an apprentice. Mistakes are unavoidable."

**"Not when there's no one else to keep an eye on things," Gilan pointed out reasonably. "Once you start practicing like that, your attention is completely distracted. These two made enough noise to alert a deaf old granny. Tug even gave you a warning call twice and you missed it."**

"Of course, some mistakes are just foolish."

**Will was totally crestfallen. "I did?" he said, and Gilan nodded.**

**For a moment, his gaze held Will's, until he was sure the lesson had been driven home and the point taken. Then he nodded slightly, signifying that the matter was closed. Will nodded in return. It wouldn't happen again.**

**"Now," said Gilan, "let's find out what these two beauties know about the price of coal."**

"The price of — what?" Jenny frowned and turned to Gilan.

The tall Ranger shrugged. "It's just an expression. It means what they know about what's going on."

**He turned back to Carney, who was now going quite cross-eyed as he tried to watch the gleaming saxe knife.**

**"How long have you been in Celtica?" GIlan asked him. Carney looked up at him, then back to the heavy knife.**

**"Tuh-tuh-tuh-ten or eleven days, my lord," he stammered eventually.**

"I don't recall giving you a barony," King Duncan said thoughtfully.

Gilan laughed. "I don't either, Your Majesty. But if you're offering —"

"No," Crowley said warningly.

Halt snorted at the comically disappointed look on Gilan's face.

**Gilan made a pained face. "Don't call me 'my lord'," he said, and, adding as aside to the two boys, "These people always try to flatter you when they realize they're in trouble. Now…" he returned his faze to Carney. "What brought you here?"**

**Carney hesitated, his eyes sliding away from Gilan's direct gaze so that the Ranger knew he was going to lie even before the bandit spoke.**

Crowley snorted rudely.

**"Just…wanted to see the sights, my…sir," he amended, remembering at the last moment Gilan's instruction not to call him "my lord."**

Cassandra barked out a laugh. "Seeing the _sights?"_

"They weren't all that bright," Horace said.

_"Clearly!"_

**Gilan sighed and shook his head with exasperation.**

**"Look, I'd just as soon lop your head off here and now. I really doubt that you have anything useful to tell me. But I'll give you one last chance. Now let's have THE TRUTH!"**

**He shouted the last two words angrily, his face suddenly only a few inches away from Carney's. The sudden transition from the languid, joking manner he had been using came as a shock to the bandit. Just for a few seconds, Gilan let his good-natured shield slip and Carney saw through to the white-hot anger that was just below the surface. In that instant, he was afraid. Like most people, he was nervous of Rangers. Rangers were not people to make angry. And this one seemed to be very, very angry.**

"And yet he still tried to lie," Halt mused.

**"We heard there were good pickings down here!" he answered immediately.**

"Vultures," Sir Rodney spat.

**"Good pickings?" Gilan asked, and Carney nodded dutifully, the floodgates of conversation well and truly open.**

**"All the towns and cities deserted. Nobody there to guard them, and all their valuables left lying around for us'n to take as we chose. We didn't harm anybody though," he concluded, a little defensively.**

"Didn't _harm_ —"

"Steady, Rodney," Baron Arald murmured.

**"Oh, no. You didn't harm them. You just crept in while they were gone and stole everything of value that they owned," Gilan told him. "I should think they'd be almost grateful for your contribution!"**

Sir Rodney snorted.

**"It was Bart's idea, not mine," Carney tried, and Gilan shook his head sadly.**

"And naturally you possess no capacity for independent thought," Alyss said tartly.

**"Gilan?" Will said tentatively, and the Ranger turned to look at him. "How would they have heard that the towns were deserted? We didn't hear a thing."**

**"Thieves' grapevine," Gilan told the two boys. "It's like the way vultures gather whenever an animal is in trouble. The intelligence network between thieves and robbers and brigands is incredibly fast. Once a place is in trouble, word spreads like wildfire and there are plenty more of them through these hills."**

King Duncan looked thoughtful. "Crowley, would the Rangers be able to tap into this grapevine?"

Crowley shook his head. "I've tried a few times, but we've never managed it. The last ranger I sent wound up hanging from a tree, and I haven't tried since."

**He turned back to Carney as he said it, prodding the saxe knife a little deeper into the flesh of his neck, just holding it back so that it didn't draw blood.**

**"Aren't there?" he asked. Carney went to nod, realized what might happen if his neck moved, gulped instead and whispered:**

**"Yes, sir."**

**"And I should imagine you've got a cave somewhere or a deserted mine tunnel, where you've stowed the loot you've stolen so far?"**

"Now _there's_ an idea," Crowley murmured, dreaming up ideas for hidden caches of supplies throughout the kingdom.

**He lessened the pressure on the knife and this time Carney was able to manage a nod. His fingers fluttered toward the belt pouch that he wore at his waist, then stopped as he realized what he was doing. But Gilan had caught the gesture. With his free hand, he ripped open the pouch and fumbled inside it, finally withdrawing a grubby sheet of paper, folded in quarters. He passed it to Will.**

**"Take a look," he said briefly, and Will unfolded the paper, revealing a clumsily drawn map, with reference points, directions and distances all indicated.**

"How convenient," Cassandra noted.

Gilan shrugged. "Some people are exceptionally stupid."

**"They've buried their loot, by the look of this," he said, and Gilan nodded, smiling thinly.**

**"Good. Then without their map, they won't be able to find it again," he said, and Carney's eyes shot wide open in protest.**

**"But that's ours…." he began, stopping as he saw the dangerous glint in Gilan's eyes.**

"It really isn't," Baron Arald muttered.

**"It was stolen," the Ranger said, in a very low voice. "You crept in like jackals and stole it from people who are obviously in deep trouble. It's not yours. It's theirs. Or their family's, if they're still alive."**

**"They're still alive," said a new voice from behind them. "They've run from Morgarath - those he hasn't already captured."**

Cassandra brightened. "Oh, there I am! I was wondering when I'd show up."


	47. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Duncan reads Chapter Twelve of The Burning Bridge. Nobody likes Sir Montague.

Sir Rodney passed the book to King Duncan, who began reading the next chapter with ferociously polite distaste.

 

**Sir Montague kept Alyss waiting for over an hour before deigning to receive her.**

 

Lady Pauline wrinkled her nose.

**Halt and Alyss waited in the anteroom to Montague's office. Halt stood to one side, leaning impassively on his longbow. Montague was an oaf, he thought.**

Alyss laughed. "Truer words may never be spoken."

**As a Courier on official business Alyss should have been greeted without delay. Obviously aware of her youth, the Master of Cobram Keep was attempting to assert his own importance by treating her as an everyday messenger.**

**He watched the girl approvingly as she sat, straight-backed and erect, in one of the hard chairs in the anteroom. She appeared calm and unflustered in spite of the insult she was being offered.**

Lady Pauline nodded discretely at Alyss. A small flush crept up the younger woman's cheeks.

**She had changed from her riding clothes when they were a few kilometers from the castle and she was now dressed in the simple but elegant white gown of a Courier. The bronze laurel branch pin, the symbol of her authority, fastened a short blue cape at her right shoulder.**

**For his part, Halt had left his distinctive mottled Ranger's cloak folded on the pommel of Abelard's saddle.**

Sir Rodney frowned. He had assumed the cloak was to the Ranger as armor was to the knight. "Why?"

Halt merely shrugged. "This was Alyss's mission."

"Don't you mean _Lady_  Alyss's mission?" Cassandra asked, grinning.

**His longbow and quiver, however, he retained. He never went anywhere without them.**

Halt cleared his throat pointedly at Will, who flushed.

**Alyss glanced up at him and he nodded, almost imperceptibly, to her. _Don't let him make you angry._**

"Always sound advice," King Duncan said, sharing an inside joke with Lady Pauline over a glance.

Lady Pauline smiled, inclining her head. "Quite so."

**She returned the nod, acknowledging the message. Her hands, which clenched into fists on her knees, slowly relaxed as she took several deep breaths.**

**_This girl is very good,_ Halt thought.**

**Montague's secretary had obviously been well briefed by his master. After peremptorily waving Alyss to a chair and leaving Halt to stand, he had busied himself with paperwork and resolutely ignored them — rising several times to take items in to the inner office.**

Baron Arald snorted. "Trying to look busy won't save you, Montague."

**Finally, at the sound of a small bell tinkling from beyond the door, he looked up and gestured toward the office.**

"Subtle," Horace muttered.

**"You can go in now," he said disinterestedly. Alyss frowned slightly. Protocol dictated that a Courier should be properly announced, but the man obviously had no intention of doing so. She rose gracefully and moved toward the door, Halt following. That got the secretary's attention.**

**"You can wait here, forester," he said rudely.**

Crowley made a scandalized noise in his throat. _"Forester?"_

**Without the cloak, there was little to distinguish Halt from a yeoman. He was dressed in simple brown leggings, soft leather boots and a green surcoat. The double knife scabbard had apparently escaped the secretary's notice. Or perhaps he didn't realize its significance.**

"Apparently, he also missed the oakleaf," Sir Rodney muttered.

**"He's with me," Alyss said. The unmistakable tone of authority in her voice stopped the man cold. He hesitated, then rose behind the desk and moved toward Halt.**

**"Very well. But you'd better leave that bow with me," he said, without quite the certainty that he had displayed earlier. He held out his hand for the bow, then met Halt's eyes. He saw something very dangerous there and he actually flinched.**

Several people snorted.

**"All right, all right. Keep it if you must," he muttered. He backed away, more than a little flustered, retreating behind the secure bulk of his desk. Halt opened the door for Alyss, then followed her as she entered the office.**

"Such a gentleman," Lady Pauline murmured, smiling at him.

**Montague of Cobram was seated at a large oaken table that served as a desk. He was studying a letter and didn't look up from it as Alyss approached. Halt was willing to bet that the letter was about something totally unimportant.**

King Duncan and Baron Arald, who had employed such a tactic on several occasions when dealing with particularly unpleasant factions (or their representatives) were caught between discomfort and exasperation. Will, who had picked up that exact tactic from Alyss's recounting of the event, grinned.

**The man was playing silly mind games, he thought.**

**But Alyss was up to the challenge. She stepped forward and produced a heavy scroll from her sleeve, slapping it briskly down on the table before Montague.**

If Lady Pauline were less composed, she might have cackled aloud. As it was, she smiled (a bit smugly) and nodded her approval. Alyss beamed.

**He started in surprise, looking up. Halt hid a smile.**

"Didn't know you knew what a smile was, Halt," Baron Arald called over to him.

**"Alyss Mainwaring, Sir Montague, Courier from Redmont Castle. My credentials."**

**Montague wasn't just an oaf, Halt thought. He was a fop as well.  
**

Crowley, who was far less composed than Lady Pauline, actually _did_ cackle.

**His satin doublet was formed in alternating quarters of scarlet and gold. His reddish blond hair was left in overlong curls, framing a somewhat chubby face with slightly bulging blue eyes and a petulant mouth. He was of average height, but of somewhat more than average weight. He would be passably handsome, Halt supposed, if he could shed a few kilos in weight, but the man obviously liked to indulge himself. He recovered now from his momentary surprise and leaned back in his chair, adopting a languid, slightly disapproving tone.**

Jenny's lip curled in disgust at the last sentence. She'd heard a similar tone from several kitchen workers during her apprentice days - but only once. It was very difficult to sound languid and disapproving after a wooden ladle to the intimates.

**"Good heavens, girl, you can't come in here throwing your credentials on the desk like that! Don't they teach good manners at Redmont Castle these days?"**

"Not at all," Baron Arald said cheerfully.

**He looked distastefully at the scroll and shoved it to one side.**

**"They teach protocol, Sir Montague," Alyss replied, very evenly. "And it requires that you examine and acknowledge my credentials before we proceed."**

**"Yes, yes, yes," Montague said, waving a dismissive hand at the scroll. "Take it as read. Take it as read. Now, girl, what brings you here?"**

Jenny snorted. _"Girl,"_ she sneered.

**Halt interjected quietly, "The correct form of address, Sir Montague, is 'Lady Alyss'."**

Will, having gone over this multiple times with Alyss (mostly just for fun) did not ask if this made him 'Lord Will'.

**Montague looked at Halt in genuine surprise, as if he considered him some lower form of life who lacked the ability of speech.**

"Pot, meet kettle," Crowley grumbled. Sir Rodney laughed.

**"Is that so, forester?" he said. "And what would your name be?"**

**Alyss went to speak, but a warning glance from Halt stopped her. He replied, still in the same quiet tone: "Some people call me Arratay, Sir Montague. It's Gallican," he added mildly.**

**Montague raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Gallican, you say? How exotic! Well, Master Arratay, perhaps you could leave the talking to me and young Alyss here, would that suit you?"**

**Halt shrugged and Montague took the movement for assent.**

**"Wonderful." Then, dismissing Halt, he turned his attention back to Alyss. "So, sweetheart, what do you have for me? A letter perhaps? Some self-important note from Fat Baron Arald, I'll be bound?"**

Baron Arald's face turned red with anger as Sir Rodney's expression turned stony. Neither of them said anything, but their feelings on the matter were _very_ clear.

**There were two small spots of color in Alyss's cheeks, the only outward sign of the anger that was building up inside her at the man's offhanded manner. She produced Nigel's heavy lien envelope from the satchel she wore at her side and offered it across the desk.**

**"I have an official legal position, prepared under Baron Arald's seal. He requests that you study it."**

**Montague made no move to take the letter.** **"Set it down. I'll look at it when I have time."**

**"The Baron requests that you look at it now, sir. And give me your answer."**

**Montague rolled his eyes to heaven and took the envelope. "Oh, very well, if it will make you happy." He sliced the envelope and took out the sheet of parchment inside it, skimming through it, muttering to himself, "Yes…yes…seen it….heard it before…nonsense…rubbish…nonsense."**

"I do believe," Lady Pauline began, with the kind of polite precision that only came out when she was deconstructing a particularly offensive argument, "that this is another case of the pot calling the kettle black?"

Sir Rodney laughed.

**He set the page down and pushed it away from him, shaking his head wearily.**

**"When will you people learn? You can send me all the letters you like. The fact remains, Corbam is an independent hold, owning no allegiance to Redmont Fief. The treaty makes that very clear."**

"My _arse_ it does -"

King Duncan cleared his throat pointedly. Baron Arald gritted his teeth.

**"I'm instructed to draw your attention to items three and five in the letter, sir. And paragraph nine as well. They make it quite clear that the wording of the treaty is faulty and you claim to independence is totally spurious," Alyss replied.  
**

Will's eyebrows shot up. "Spurious?" he asked, grinning at Alyss.

Alyss inclined her head. "Spurious."

**And now, for the first time, Montague shed the air of world-weariness that he'd assumed. He stood angrily.**

**"Spurious!" he shouted. "Spurious? Who the devil are you, a little girl in a grown-up's dress,"**

"A Redmont Courier," Halt growled.

**"to come in here insulting me and saying my claim is spurious? How dare you?"**

**Alyss stood her ground, unmoved by his sudden anger.**

**"I repeat, sir, you are requested to read those items," she said quietly. Instead, Montague threw the letter down on the desk between them.**

**"And I refuse!" he shouted. Then his eyes narrowed. "I know who's behind this. I see the hand of that sour-faced shrew Lady Pauline here!"**

The uproar around the table was magnificent - indeed, the only person outwardly unaffected (save for a narrowing of the eyes) was the 'sour-faced shrew' herself. Halt and Alyss, having been present for the actual event, were the next most composed

**Now Alyss's own anger flared. "You will speak respectfully of Lady Pauline sir!" she warned him. But Montague was too angry to stop.**

**"I'll speak of her, all right! I'll tell you this. She's a woman meddling in a man's world, where she has no place. She should have found a husband years ago and raised a brood of squalling babies. Surely there's a deaf and half-blind man somewhere who would have taken her."**

"And what a lucky deaf and half-blind man he was," Lady Pauline said, completely straight-faced as she looked at Halt.

Halt shrugged. She wasn't wrong.

**"Sir!" said Alyss, her own voice rising.  
**

"Oh, you're in trouble now," Will mumbled.

**"You are going too far!"**

**"Is that right, sweetheart?" Montague replied sarcastically. "Well, let me give you some advice. Get away from that shrill, pinch-faced witch while you still have time. Find a husband and learn to cook. That's all women are good for, girl. Cooking and raising the babies!"**

The second round of magnificent uproar was cut abruptly short by the sound of splintering wood.

Princess Cassandra, in her third-best dress (not gown) with the royal heir's crown balanced perfectly on her head, wrenched her dagger out of the table. "My apologies," she said sweetly, tucking it back up her sleeve. "Do carry on."

(Horace was starry-eyed.)

**Halt stepped forward before Alyss could reply. "The correct form of address," he repeated quietly, "is not 'girl' or 'sweetheart'. It is 'Lady Alyss'. You will show respect for the laurel branch that this Courier wears. And you will show respect for Lady Pauline as well."**

**"Oh, is that so?" he raged. "I'll show you respect!" He picked up the letter and tore it in half. Then he did the same to the scroll bearing Alyss's credentials.**

Lady Pauline sucked in a breath, staring at the book. Such blatant disrespect - from some _minor_ _lord_ no less, with even less political backing than legal sense -

**"There's my respect! Now get out!"**

**Very carefully, Halt set his longbow to one side, leaning it against a chair.  
**

"Did you say something about not throwing away your weapons?" Will asked him. Halt shot him a withering look - or it would have been withering, on anyone but Will.

**Alyss raised a warning hand.**

**"Halt, don't get into trouble on my behalf," she said. But Halt looked at her and shook his head.**

**"Lady Alyss, this…fop…has insulted you, your Baron, your mentor and the Diplomatic Corps as a whole. He has shown absolute disregard for the laurel branch you wear. And by destroying your credentials, he has committed a crime that warrants a jail term."**

**Alyss considered his words for a second or two. Then she nodded. Montague had been more than rude to her. His behavior was totally beyond acceptance.**

**"You're right," she said. "Carry on."**

Cassandra laughed delightedly.

**But Montague had heard nothing after the word "Halt". The entire kingdom knew the legendary Ranger's reputation and the keeper of Cobram paled now and stepped back as the grim-faced figure came toward him.**

**"But…you said…you said your name was…" He struggled to remember it.  
**

King Duncan rolled his eyes. There were _two names_ to remember. Two!

**Halt smiled at him. It was the smile of a wolf.**

Will whispered one of his half-dozen Skandian jokes to Alyss, who covered her mouth to conceal an inopportune giggle.

**"Arratay? Yes, well, more correctly, Arretez. It's Gallican for 'Halt'. My pronunciation has never been good."**

Crowley cackled. "Oh, you did the same thing -"

Halt chuckled. It was humorless.

**His hand shot forward and locked the scarlet-and-gold collar of the other man's doublet. The satin tore momentarily, then Halt gained a firmer grip and dragged the struggling knight across the table toward him.**

**Montague was taller and heavier than Halt. But Halt's hands, arms, shoulders and back were conditioned by years of drawing the massive longbow, with its pull weight of sixty kilos. The thousands of arrows he had shot, over and over again, had turned his muscles into steel cord. Montague was dragged off his feet, hoisted across his own desk.**

**"The question is," said Halt, glancing at Alyss, "what should we do with him?" She hesitated, then that wonderful smile spread over her face.**

**"I wonder," she said. "Does this castle have a moat?"**

"You did _not,"_ Baron Arald said gleefully.

Halt shrugged. Alyss laughed.

"It seemed appropriate," she said.

**A group of servants were busy emptying the privy buckets into the moat when they were startled by a sudden drawn-out cry. They looked up in time to see a scarlet-and-gold-clad figure sail out of a first-story window, turn over once and then land with an enormous splash in the dark, rancid waiters. They shrugged and went back to work.**

**"I suppose I will be in trouble again now," Halt said as they were riding home.**

"For what?" Baron Arald said, looking quite convincingly puzzled.

Lady Pauline laughed quietly. "Indeed."

**Alyss glanced at him. He didn't look very repentant.**

**"I doubt it," she said. "Once people hear my report, I should think they'll say Montague got off lightly. After all, phases like 'Fat Baron Arald' and 'sour-faced shrew' wouldn't exactly endear him to Baron Arald or Lady Pauline. And he did sign an acceptance of the letter in the end. As the official courier on this mission, I thank you for your service."**

**He bowed slightly from the saddle. "It's been a pleasure working with you," he said, and they rode in companionable silence for a while.**

**"I suppose you'll be leaving with the army soon?" she said after a few minutes, and when Halt nodded, she continued: "I'll miss you. How will I ever carry out diplomatic missions without someone to throw unpleasant nobles out the window?"**

Lady Pauline sighed. "If only that solved all diplomatic hiccups."

King Duncan struggled to keep his smile under control as most of the rest of the table laughed. As the highest-ranking noble in the room, he felt it would be in poor taste to show open amusement at the sentiment. Intimidating one's Barons and Lords was, generally, not good practice.

**"I will miss you too," Halt smiled. And he realized that he meant it. He enjoyed being around young people - enjoyed their energy, their freshness, their idealism.**

Gilan grinned. "Aww, Halt. You're so sweet."

"You don't count as young," Halt said bluntly.

Jenny cackled at Gilan's gobsmacked expression. **  
**

**"You're a good influence on a jaded, old, bad-tempered Ranger."**

**"You'll soon have Will back to keep you busy," she said. "You really miss him, don't you?"**

**The Ranger nodded. "More than I realized," he said. Alyss urged her horse close beside his and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.**

**"That's for Will when you see him." A ghost of a smile touched Halt's face.**

**"You'll understand if I don't pass it on in person?" he said.  
**

Will made a face. "Please don't."

Alyss smiled sweetly and kissed him. "No need."

**Alyss smiled and leaned over to kiss him again.**

**"And that's for you, you jaded, bad-tempered old Ranger."**

**A little surprised by her own impulsiveness, she urged her horse ahead of him. Halt touched one hand to his cheek and looked after the slim blond figure.**

**_If I were twenty years younger…_ ** **he began.**

**Then he sighed and had to be honest with himsel** **f. _Make that thirty years._**


	48. The Burning Bridge - Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halt reads chapter thirteen of The Burning Bridge. Nobody is particularly thrilled and everyone has an opinion on something.

King Duncan passed the book to Halt.

**If she hadn't spoken, they would have taken her for a boy. It was the soft voice that gave her away. She stood at the edge of the campsite, a slender figure with blond hair cut short — to a boy's length — dressed in a ragged tunic, breeches, and soft leather boots, bound up to the knee. A stained and torn sheepskin vest seemed to be her only protection against the cold mountain nights, for she wore no cloak and carried no blankets. Just a small bandanna tied into a bundle, which, presumably, contained all her belongings.**

King Duncan pressed his lips into a tight line. If Cassandra wanted her father's comfort, she would ask for it. Still, he couldn't stop himself from looking over at her. She appeared unconcerned, leaning her elbows on the table (she'd never been able to break that habit) with a vaguely interested expression on her face, but he could see the tension in her shoulders.

**"Where the devil did you spring from?" Gilan asked, turning to face her. He sheathed his saxe knife as he did so and allowed Carney to fall gratefully to his knees, exhausted.**

**The girl, who Will could now see was around his own age and, underneath a liberal coating of dirt, remarkably pretty, gestured vaguely.**

"Why thank you, Will," Cassandra said dryly.

Will ducked his head, embarrassed. Alyss, who had long since gotten over her jealousies regarding Cassandra and Will's friendship, merely laughed.

**"Oh…" She paused uncertainly, trying to gather her thoughts, and Will realized she was close to the point of exhaustion. "I've been hiding out in the hills for several weeks now," she said finally.**

King Duncan bit his tongue. Cassandra had never told him any details about what had happened to her in Celtica. He'd never asked.

**Will had to admit she looked as if she had been.**

**"Do you have a name?" asked Gilan, not unkindly. He too could see the girl was worn-out.**

**She hesitated. She appeared uncertain as to whether to give them her name or not.**

**"Evanlyn Wheeler, from Greenfield fief," she said. Greenfield was a small coastal fief in Araluen. "We were here visiting friends..." She stopped and looked away from Gilan. She seemed to be thinking for a second, before she amended the statement. "Rather, my mistress was visiting friends, when the Wargals attacked."  
**

"Why didn't you just say who you were?" Crowley asked.

Cassandra shrugged, suddenly appearing exhausted. "Habit, I suppose. I was scared."

Horace wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his side.

**"Wargals!" Will said, the word jerked from him, and she turned a level pair of brilliant green eyes upon him. As she looked into them, he realized she was more than pretty. Much, much more. She was beautiful. The strawberry blond hair and green eyes were complemented by a small, straight nose and a full mouth that Will thought would look quite delightful if she were smiling. But right now, a smile was a long way from the girl's thoughts. She gave a sad little lift of her shoulders as she answered him.**

**"Where did you think all the people have gone?" she asked him. "Wargals have been attacking towns and villages throughout this part of Celtica for weeks now. The Celts couldn't stand against them. They were driven out of their homes. Most of them escaped to the Southwest Peninsula. But some were captured. I don't know what's happened to them."**

"The mines," Horace said softly.

Will nodded. "And the bridge."

**Gilan and the two boys exchanged looks. Deep down, they'd all been expecting to hear something of the kind. Now it was out in the open.**

**"I thought I saw Morgarath's hand behind all this," Gilan said softly, and the girl nodded, tears forming in her eyes. One of them slid down her cheek, tracking its way through the grime there. She put a hand to her eyes, and her shoulders began to shake. Quickly, Gilan stepped forward and caught her just before she fell. He lowered her gently to the ground, leaning her against one of the rocks that the boys had positioned around the fireplace. His voice was gentle and compassionate now.**

**"It's all right," he said to her. "You're safe now. Just rest here and we'll get you something hot to eat and drink." He glanced quickly at Horace. "Get a fire going, please, Horace. Just a small one. We're fairly sheltered here and I think we can risk it. And Will," he added, raising his voice so that it carried clearly, "if that bandit makes another move to get away, would you mind shooting him through the leg?"**

Crowley snickered. "Halt trained you well, it looks like."

Gilan grinned. "Of course he did."

Halt smiled to himself, both pleased by the compliment and proud of how Gilan had handled the situation.

**Carney, who had taken the opportunity created by Evanlyn's surprising appearance to begin crawling quietly away toward the surrounding rocks, now froze where he was.**

"Idiot," Baron Arald muttered. "Trying to sneak away from a Ranger."

Sir Rodney glanced at him. "Didn't you - ?"

"I was _thirteen,_ Rodney."

**Gilan threw an angry glare at them, then revised his orders.**

**"On second thought, you do the fire, Will. Horace, tie those two up."**

**The two boys moved quickly to the tasks he had set them. Satisfied that everything was in hand, Gilan now removed his own cloak and wrapped it around the girl. She had covered her face with both hands and her shoulders were still shaking, although she made no noise. He put his arms around her and murmured gently, reassuring her once more that she was safe.**

Cassandra shot a thankful smile at Gilan.

**Gradually, her silent, racking sobs diminished and her breathing more regular. Will, engaged in heating a pot of water for a hot drink, looked at her in some surprise as he realized that she'd fallen asleep.**

King Duncan blinked. He hadn't been expecting _that_.

**Gilan motioned for silence and said quietly:**

**"She's obviously been under a great strain. It's best to let her sleep. You might prepare one of those excellent stews that Halt taught you to make."**

"Halt can cook?" Sir Rodney was surprised.

Crowley grinned. "All Rangers can cook."

At the same time, however, Will answered with: "Supposedly."

Halt scowled.

**In his pack, Will carried a selection of dried ingredients that, when blended together in boiling water and simmered, resulted in delicious stews. They could be augmented by any fresh meat and vegetables that the travelers picked up along the way, but even without them, they made a far tastier meal than the cold rations that the three had been eating that day.**

**He sat a large bowl of water over the fire and soon had a delicious beef stew simmering and filling the cold evening air with is scent. At the same time, he produced their dwindling supply of coffee and set the enamel pot full of water in the hot embers to the side of the main fire. As the water bubbled and hissed to boiling, he lifted the lid of the pot with a forked stick and tossed in a handful of grounds. Soon the aromatic scent of fresh coffee mingled with the stew and their mouths began to water.**

Crowley licked his lips. That _did_ sound good.

**Around the same time, the savory smells must have penetrated Evanlyn's consciousness. Her nose twitched delicately, then those startling green eyes flicked open. For a second or two, there was alarm in them as she tried to remember where she was. Then she caught sight of Gilan's reassuring face and she relaxed a little.**

**"Something smells awfully good," she said and he grinned at her.**

**"Perhaps you could try a bowlful and ten tell us what's been going on in these pasts." He made a sign to Will to heap an enamel bowl full of the stew. It was Will's own bowl, as they didn't have any spare eating utensils. His stomach growled as he realized he'd have to wait until Evanlyn had finished eating before he could.**

Cassandra smiled apologetically at him. "Sorry, Will."

Will shrugged. "You needed it more than I did."

**Horace and Gilan, of course simply helped themselves.**

Will mock-glared at the two of them. "Now _you_ could have shared."

Gilan shrugged. "Could've," he admitted. "But didn't."

Horace just grinned.

**Evanlyn began wolfing down the savory stew with an enthusiasm that showed she hadn't eaten in days. Gilan and Horace also set to quite happily. A whining voice came from the far rock wall where Horace had tied the two bandits, sitting them back to back.**

**"Can we have something to eat, sir?" asked Carney. Gilan barely paused between mouthfuls and threw a disdainful glance at them.**

**"Oh," she said, looking apologetically at Will, "would you like to…?" She offered the enamel plate to him. Will was tempted to share it with her, but he realized that she must be nearly starving. In spite of her offer, he could see that she was hoping that he'd refuse. He decided that there was a difference between being hungry, which he was, and starving, which she was, and shook his head, smiling at her.**

King Duncan took a second to remind himself that this was about his daughter, not his emotions. He glanced at Cassandra, silently checking and making sure she was all right. When she smiled back, it was a little tight and nervous, but she nodded ever so slightly.

**"You go ahead," he said. "I'll eat when you've finished."**

**He was a little disappointed when she didn't insist, but went back to wolfing down great spoonfuls of the stew pausing occasionally for a deep draft of hot, freshly brewed coffee. As she ate, it seemed that a little color returned to her cheeks. She cleaned the plate and looked wistfully at the stewpot still hanging over the fire. Will took the hint and ladled out another healthy dollop of stew and she set to once again, hardly pausing to breath. This time, when the plate was empty, she smiled shyly and handed it back to him.**

**"Thanks," she said simply, and he ducked his head awkwardly.**

**"'Sall right," he mumbled, filling the plate again for himself. "I suppose you were pretty hungry."**

**"I was," she agreed. "I don't think I've eaten properly in a week."**

Horace looked horrified. Cassandra muffled her laughter at his expression against her hand.

**Gilan hitched himself into a more comfortable position by the small fire they kept burning. "Why not?" he asked. "I would have thought there was plenty of food left in the houses. You could have taken some of that."**

**She shook her head, her eyes showing the fear that had gripped her for the previous few weeks. "I didn't want to risk it," she said, "I didn't know if there'd be more of Morgarath's patrols around, so I didn't dare go into any of the towns. I found a few vegetables and the odd piece of cheese in some of the farmhouses, but precious little else."**

"Probably smart." Crowley's voice was gentle.

Cassandra smiled. "But hungry."

**"I think it's time you told us what you know about events here," Gilan told her, and she nodded agreement.**

**"Not that I know too much. As I said, I was here with my mistress, visiting…friends." Again, there was just the slightest hesitation in her words. Gilan frowned slightly, noticing it.**

**"Your mistress is a noble lady, I take it? A knight's wife, or perhaps a lord's wife?"**

**Evanlyn nodded. "She is daughter to…Lord and Lady Caramorn of Greenfield Fief," she said quickly. But again there was that fleeting hesitation. Gilan pursed his lips thoughtfully.**

Cassandra grimaced. "I really was terribly obvious, wasn't I?"

Horace shrugged. "Only to Rangers. I didn't notice a thing."

Halt refrained from commenting.

**"I've heard the name," he said. "Can't say I know them."**

**"Anyway, she was here visiting a lady of King Swyddned's court - an old friend - when Morgarath's force attacked."**

**Gilan frowned once more. "How did they accomplish that?" he wanted to know. "The cliffs and the Fissure are impassable. You couldn't get any army down the cliffs, let alone across the Fissure."**

Halt shook his head. "Nowhere is really impassible," he said. "Especially if you don't care about the death toll." He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I teach you that?"

"Apparently not," Sir Rodney muttered.

**The cliffs rose from the far side of the far side of the Fissure to form the boundary between Celtica and the Mountains of Rain and Night. They were sheer granite, several hundred meters in height. There were no passes, no way up or down - certainly not for large numbers of troops.**

**"Halt says no place is ever really impassable," Will put in. "Particularly if you don't mind losing lives in the attempt."**

Halt gestured to the book. "You see?"

"Yes, yes, fine," Gilan grumbled.

**"We ran into a small party of Celts escaping to the south," the girl said. "They told us how the Wargals managed it. They used ropes and scaling ladders and came down the cliffs by night, in small numbers. They found a few narrow ledges, then used the scaling ladders to cross the Fissure."**

Baron Arald hummed. "Risky."

"It's Morgarath." The disgust in Sir Rodney's voice was evident. "He never cared."

**"They picked the most remote spot they could find, so they went undetected. During the day, those already across the Fissure hid among the rocks and valleys until they had the entire force assembled. They wouldn't have needed many. Kind Swyddned didn't keep a large standing army."**

"That solves the problem of getting a large force across, I suppose," Baron Arald grunted.

**Gilan made a disapproving sound and caught Will's eye.**

**"He should have. The treaty obliged him to. But remember what we said about people growing complacent? Celts would rather dig in their ground than defend it." He gestured for the girl to continue.**

**"The Wargals overran the townships and mines - the mines in particular. For some reason, they wanted the miners alive."**

Sir Rodney scratched his chin contemplatively. "Resources would be my first thought."

**"Anyone else, they killed if they didn't get away in time."**

**Gilan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Pordellath and Gwyntaleth are both totally deserted," he said. "Any idea where the people have gone?"**

**"If they're alive, they've gone south," she told him. "The Wargals seem to be driving them that way."**

"South?" Jenny frowned. "What's in the south?"

Horace shrugged. "The ocean, I suppose. Unless the Celts suddenly mastered sailing, it's an effective way to keep them pinned."

**"Makes sense, I suppose," Gilan commented. "Keeping them bottled up in the south would prevent word getting out to Araluen."**

"And also that," Horace added.

Cassandra snorted.

**"That's what the captain of our escort said," Evanlyn agreed. "King Swyddned and most of his surviving army retreated to the southwest coast to form a defensive line. Any Celts who managed to get away from the Wargals have joined him there."**

**"And what about you?" Gilan wanted to know.**

**"We were trying to escape back to the border when we were cut off by a war party," she told them. "Our men held them off while my lady and I escaped. We were almost clear, but her horse stumbled and they caught her. I wanted to go back for her, but she screamed at me to get away. I couldn't…I wanted to help her but…I just…"**

Horace pulled Cassandra closer. She buried her face against his shoulder, grateful for the comfort.

**Tears began to cascade down her cheeks once more. She didn't seem to notice, making no attempt to wipe them away, just staring silently into the fire as the horror of it all came back to her. When she spoke once more, her voice was almost inaudible.**

**"I got clear and I turned back to watch. They were…they were…I could see them…" Her voice died away. Gilan reached forward and took her hand.**

**"Don't think about it," he said gently and she looked up at him, gratitude in her eyes. "I take it that after…that…you got away into the hills?"**

**She nodded several times, her thoughts still vivid with the terrible scenes she had witnessed. Will and Horace sat in silence. Will glanced at his friend and a look of understanding passed between them. Evanlyn had been lucky to escape.**

**"I've been hiding ever since," she said quietly. "My horse went lame about ten days back and I turned him loose."**

One corner of Crowley's mouth twitched upward. "That was a kindness, my lady."

"He was a good horse," Cassandra said firmly.

**"Since then, I've kept moving back toward the north by night and hiding by day." She indicated Bart and Carney, sitting trussed like two captive chickens on the far side of the clearing.**

**"I saw those two a few times, and others like them. I didn't make myself known to them. I didn't think I could trust them."**

**Carney assumed a hurt look. Bart was still too dizzy from the crack Horace had given him with the flat of his sword to be taking any interest in the proceedings.**

**"Then I saw you three earlier today from across a valley and I recognized you as King's Rangers- well, two of you, anyway," she amended. "All I could think was 'Thank God'".**

**Gilan looked up at her at that, a small frown of concentration creasing his forehead.**

Cassandra grimaced. "I take it that was a mistake?"

Gilan nodded. "Most folk, even servants, aren't too fond of us. Wary, generally - comes with all those sorcery rumors that Halt has been so helpful dispelling." His tone dried as he spoke the last few words and he shot Halt a look.

Halt remained unmoved.

Cassandra nodded thoughtfully as Gilan spoke, storing the information away for later.

**She didn't notice the reaction as she went on.**

**"It took me most of the day to reach you. It wasn't far as the crow flies, but there was no way across the valley that separated us. I had to go the long way around. Then down and up again. I was terrified that you'd gone by the time I got here. But luckily, you weren't," she added, unnecessarily.**

Cassandra's cheeks went a little pink at that.

**Will was leaning forward, elbow on his knee and hand propped under his chin, trying to piece together all she'd told him.**

**"Why would Morgarath want miners?" he asked of nobody in particular. "He doesn't have mines, so it doesn't make sense."**

"He might not have needed to," Sir Rodney pointed out. "Even if he wasn't thinking about the bridge, he could have captured the Celts' mines as well as their miners."

**"Maybe he's found some?" Horace suggested. "Maybe he's found gold up there in the Mountains of Rain and Night and he needs slaves to dig it out."**

**Gilan gnawed thoughtfully at a thumbnail as he considered what Horace had said. "That could be," he said at last. "He's going to need gold to pay off the Skandians. Maybe he's mining his own."**

**Evanlyn had sat up a little straighter at the mention of the sea wolves.**

**"Skandians?" she asked. "Are they in league with Morgarath now?"**

"Only the mercenaries," Halt said dryly. "Which, in fairness, is most of them."

Gilan laughed.

**Gilan nodded. "They've got something cooking," he told her. "The entire kingdom's on alert. We were bringing dispatches to King Swyddned from Duncan."**

**"You'll have to go southwest to find him," Evanlyn replied. Will noticed that she had started a little at the mention of King Duncan's name.**

Cassandra sighed. "And there's the second mistake."

"You did well." Crowley's voice was gentle. "Very well, considering the circumstances."

Cassandra smiled wanly at him. "I'd rather not have had to do it at all."

**"But I doubt he'll leave his defensive positions there."**

**Gilan was already shaking his head. "I think this is more important than taking dispatches to Swyddned. After all, the main thrust of them was to tell him that Morgarath was on the move. I guess he knows that by now."**

**He stood up, stretching and yawing. It was already full dark.**

**"I suggest we get a good night's sleep," he said, "and start back north in the morning. I'll take first watch, so you can keep my cloak, Evanlyn. I'll take Will's when he relieves me."**

**"Thank you," Evanlyn said simply, and all three of them knew she was talking about more than just the use of the cloak.**

Gilan nodded. "Always happy to help, my lady."

**Will and Horace moved to douse the fire as Gilan took his longbow and moved to a rock outcrop that gave him a good view of the track leading to and from their campsite.**

**As Will was helping Evanlyn arrange a sleeping spot, he heard Carney's whining voice once more.**

**"Sir, please, could you loosen these ropes a little for the night? They're awful tight, like."**

Baron Arald snorted explosively.

**And he heard Gilan's uncaring "Of course not" as he climbed up onto the rocks to take the first watch.**

King Duncan hid a smirk.


End file.
